THE  IRON  DIVISION 

THE  NATIOKAL  GUARD  OF  PENNSYftANiA 

IN  THE  WORLD  WAR 

H.G.  PROCTOR. 


HBADQUAJtrSRS   26TH  DITISIOI 

AKERICiUI  EXIEDITIOIURT  rORCES 

rHAMCZ 


27tta  Ootober  1918. 


MEMOIUXXni  -  RED  KKTSTOBS 


k  RED  KETSTORB  has  been  deaignated  aa  the  dlatlnctlTe   Insignia  of  thlt 
DlTlalon. 

Keyatonea  are  to  be  worn  on  all  ooata  and  orerooatar  Including  the 
trenoh  and  ahort  ooata  worn  by  offloers,  and  the  ItaoKlnawe  Issued  to  Engineera 
■otoroyole  drlrera,  eto.,  bat  not  on  the  allcloer. 

A  ataxtlard  size  of  KByston*  of  selected  color  and  quality  of  cloth  has 
been  adopted  and  oontraoted  for  by  the  Quartermaster's  Department.     These  will 
be  Issued  at  the  rate  of  two  per  man  and  no  others  will  be  worn.       They  are  to 
kc  sewed  on  the  left  sleeve  with  red  thread,  the  top  to  be  on  the  line  of  Um 


The  proportions  of  a  Keystone  are  shown  be low: 


By  connand  of  Vajor  Gcnenl  1»jt 


W.C.  Sneeafey, 
Chief  of  Staff. 


The  Official  Order  Design ating  the  28th  as 
Keystone  Division  (Reduce^ 


THE  IRON  DIVISION 

NATIONAL    GUARD    OF    PENNSYLVANIA 

IN  THE  WORLD  WAR 

THE  AUTHENTIC  AND  COMPREHEN- 
SIVE NARRATIVE  OF  THE  GALLANT 
DEEDS  AND  GLORIOUS  ACHIEVE- 
MENTS OF  THE  28TH  DIVISION  IN 
THE  WORLD'S  GREATEST  WAR 

BY 
H.  G.  PROCTOR 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


:3^y 


Copyright,  1919.  by 
The  John  C.  Winston  Co. 


Copyright,  1918.  by 
The  EvENmo  Bulletin 


To  The 

Mothers  of  Pennsylvania, 

And  especially  those  who  mourn  bor 

Lads  who  lie  in  the  soil 

OF  France, 
This  Book  is  Dedicated 


A   HI    /■>  O  O  /t 


FOREWORD 

IF  LOVE,  admiration  and  respect,  with 
a  sense  of  personal  gratification  at  see- 
ing the  hopes  and  predictions  of  years 
fulfilled,  may  be  pleaded  as  justification 
for  a  self-appointed  chronicler,  then  this 
book  needs  no  excuse.  It  is  offered  with 
a  serene  confidence  that  it  does  justice, 
and  nothing  more  than  simple  justice,  to 
as  fine  and  gallant  a  body  of  soldiers 
as  ever  represented  this  great  common- 
wealth in  action. 

There  must  be,  for  the  loved  ones  of 
these  modern  crusaders,  as  well  as  for  the 
thousands  of  former  members  of  the 
National  Guard,  who,  like  the  writer, 
whole-heartedly  envied  the  opportunities 
for  glorious  service  that  came  to  their 
successors  m  the  organization,  a  sense 
of  deep  and  abiding  pride  in  the  price- 
less record  of  achievement.  To  all  such, 
and  to  those  others  to  whom  American 
valor  is  always  a  readable  subject,  what- 
ever the  locale,  the  narrative  is  presented 
as  not  unworthy  of  its  cause. 

H.  G.  P. 


CONTENTS 

Page 

I.    Men  of  Iron 11 

II.  Off  For  the  Front.    ...     25 

III.  The  Last  Hun  Drive.    .    .     48 

IV.  "Kill  or  Be  Killed"     .    .     60 
V.  The  Guard  Stands  Fast    .     77 

VI.  BocHE  in  Full  Flight    .    .     91 

VII.  Bombed  From  the  Air    .    .   108 

VIII.    In  Heroic  Mold 121 

IX.  The  Church  of  Roncheres  137 

X.  At  Grips  with  Death     .    .   157 

XI.  Drive  to  the  Vesle    .    .    .   168 

XII.    In  Death  Valley 184 

XIII.  Stars  of  Grim  Drama    .    .   199 

XIV.  Ambulanciers  to  Front     .   213 
XV.  A  Martial  Panorama.    .    .   227 

XVI.    In  the  Argonne 241 

XVII.  Million  Dollar  Barrage  .   251 

XVIII.  "  An  Enviable  Reputation  "  262 

XIX.  Ensanguined  Apremont  .    .   278 

XX.    Toward  Hunland 291 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

The   Official   Order    Designating 

THE   ^TH  AS   THE   KeYSTONE    DIVI- 
SION      Frontispiece 

PAGE 

France    at    Last!      Iron    Division 
Debarking       22 

Into  the  Maw  of  Battle     ....    186 

Briefly  at   Rest  in   the  Argonne 
Forest      248 


CHAPTER  I 

Men  of  Iron 

YOU  are  not  soldiers!  You  are  men 
of  iron!'' 
Such  was  the  tribute  of  an  idol- 
ized general  to  the  men  of  the  Twenty- 
eighth  Division,  United  States  Army,  after 
the  division  had  won  its  spurs  in  a  glori- 
ous, breath-taking  fashion  at  the  second 
battle  of  the  Marne  in  July  and  August, 
1918. 

The  grizzled  officer,  his  shrewd,  keen 
eyes  softened  to  genuine  admiration  for 
the  deeds  of  the  gallant  men  and  with  real 
sorrow  for  the  fallen,  uttered  his  simple 
praise  to  a  little  group  of  officers  at  a  cer- 
tain headquarters. 

It  was  too  good  to  keep.  It  was  repeated 
with  a  glow  of  pride  to  junior  officers  and 
swept  through  all  ranks  of  the  entire 
division  in  an  incredibly  short  time.  The 
gratified  and  delighted  soldiery,  already 
feeling  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  their 
task  had  been  well  done,  seized  upon  the 
(11) 


l^f;    ,  TtiE  DIVISION 

words  and  became,  to  themselves  and  all 
who  knew  them,  the  "Iron  Division." 

The  words  of  praise  have  been  attributed 
to  General  Pershing.  Whether  they  actu- 
ally emanated  from  him  has  not  been 
clearly  established.  That  they  did  come 
from  a  source  high  enough  to  make  them 
authoritative  there  is  no  shadow  of  doubt. 

Furthermore,  to  make  the  approval 
wholly  oflScial  and  of  record,  there  has 
come  to  the  division  from  General  Persh- 
ing a  citation  entitling  every  officer  and 
enlisted  man  to  wear  on  his  left  sleeve,  just 
under  the  shoulder  seam,  a  scarlet  key- 
stone, an  unique  distinction  in  the  Ameri- 
can Army.  The  citation  called  the  Twenty- 
eighth  a  "Famous  Red  Fighting  Division," 
but  even  this  formal  designation  has  not 
supplanted,  in  the  minds  of  the  soldiers, 
the  name  of  "The  Iron  Division,"  which 
they  regard  as  their  especial  pride. 

And,  to  make  the  record  complete,  scores 
of  the  officers  and  men  throughout  the 
division  have  been  cited  for  gallantry  and 
awarded  the  Distinguished  Service  Cross 
by  General  Pershing,  while  others  have 
won  the  French  decoration,  the  Croix  de 
Guerre. 


MEN  OF  IRON  13 

So  it  is  that  the  former  National  Guard 
of  Pennsylvania  has  carried  on  the  fame 
and  glory  which  were  the  heritage  of  its 
fathers  from  the  Civil  War  and  from  every 
other  war  in  the  history  of  the  nation. 
At  the  cost  of  many  precious  young  lives 
and  infinite  suffering,  it  is  true,  but  that  is 
war,  whose  recompense  is  that  the  victory 
was  America's  and  that  our  men  magnifi- 
cently upheld  all  the  traditions  of  their 
land. 

Regiments  and  smaller  units  of  the  divi- 
sion which  did  not  get  into  the  line  in  time 
for  that  first  swift  battle  looked  with  envy 
upon  their  comrades  who  did  and  pride- 
fully  appropriated  the  division's  new-found 
honors,  announcing  themselves  "members 
of  the  Iron  Division."  And  when  their 
own  time  came,  they  lived  well  up  to  the 
title  and  reputation. 

Held  up  to  scorn  and  contempt  for 
years  as  "tin  soldiers,"  made  the  plaything 
of  the  pettiest  politics,  hampered  and 
hindered  at  every  emergency  and  then 
thrown  in  a  sector  where  it  was  believed 
they  would  have  a  chance  to  become  fire- 
hardened  without  too  great  responsibility 
falling  to  their  lot,  they  met  the  brunt  of 


14  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

the  last  German  advance  from  the  Marne, 
held  it  and  sent  the  enemy  back,  reeling, 
broken  and  defeated,  saved  Paris  and  won 
the  grateful  and  admiring  praise  of  their 
veteran  French  comrades  in  arms. 

Throughout  all  the  years  of  upbuilding 
in  full  belief  that  the  time  would  come 
when  they  would  have  a  chance  to  vindi- 
cate their  faith  in  the  National  Guard 
system,  a  devoted  group  of  officers  and 
enlisted  men  remained  faithful  and  un- 
shaken. The  personnel  fell  and  rose,  fell 
and  rose.  Men  constantly  dropped  out  of 
the  service  as  their  enlistments  expired  and 
the  burden  of  recruiting  and  training  new 
men  was  always  to  be  met.  It  was  dis- 
couraging work,  but  carried  forward  steadily 
and  unfalteringly. 

Persons  who  visited  the  National  Guard 
of  Pennsylvania  in  its  training  camps, 
especially  the  last  one  in  this  country. 
Camp  Hancock,  at  Augusta,  Ga.,  were 
impressed  with  the  quiet  confidence  with 
which  the  older  officers  and  enlisted  men 
viewed  their  handiwork.  Many  of  the 
newer  men  in  the  service,  catching  the 
spirit  of  confidence,  voiced  it  in  boyish 
boastfulness. 


MEN  OF  IRON  15 

*' These  men  are  ripe  and  ready,"  said 
the  older,  more  thoughtful  ones.  "They 
will  give  a  good  account  of  themselves 
when  the  time  arrives.  They  are  trained 
to  the  minute,  and  Pennsylvania  never  will 
have  need  to  be  ashamed  of  them." 

"Just  wait  until  this  little  old  division 
gets  to  France,"  bragged  the  younger  ones. 
"The  Hun  won't  have  a  chance.  We'll 
show  'em  something  they  don't  know.  Go 
get  'em;  that's  us." 

And  today,  Pennsylvania,  mourning, 
grief -stricken,  but  aglow  with  pride  and 
love  for  that  gallant  force,  agrees  with 
both. 

It  is  an  odd  coincidence  that  the  Twenty- 
eighth  Division  of  the  German  army  should 
have  been  one  of  the  most  frequently 
mentioned  organizations  of  the  Kaiser's 
forces  during  the  war  and  that  it,  too, 
should  have  acquired,  by  its  exploits,  a 
title  all  its  own.  It  was  known  as  "the 
Flying  Shock  Division,"  and  on  frequent 
occasions  it  was  disclosed,  through  the 
capture  of  prisoners,  that  the  two  Twenty- 
eighth  Divisions  were  opposing  each  other — 
a  fact  eloquent  in  itself  of  the  esteem  in 
which  the  enemy  held  our  Pennsylvania 


16  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

lads  as  foemen,  for  the  "Flying  Shock 
Division"  was  shunted  from  one  end  of 
the  Western  Front  to  the  other,  wherever 
a  desperate  situation  for  the  Germans 
called  for  desperate  fighting. 

In  the  heroic  stand  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Guardsmen  may  be  traced  one  more  in- 
stance of  the  truth  of  the  adage  that 
"history  repeats  itself."  On  the  field  of 
Gettysburg  a  handsome  monument  marks 
the  crest  of  Pickett's  charge,  the  farthest 
point  to  which  Confederate  fighting  men 
penetrated  in  their  efforts  to  break  through 
the  Union  lines.  Here  they  were  met  and 
stopped  by  Pennsylvania  troops  (the  Phila- 
delphia Brigade).  Had  they  not  been 
stopped,  military  authorities  have  agreed, 
the  battle  of  Gettysburg  almost  certainly 
would  have  been  lost  to  the  Union.  The 
whole  course  of  the  war  probably  would  have 
been  changed  and  the  Confederacy  would 
have  been  within  sight  of  ultimate  victory. 

But  they  were  met  and  stopped  by  the 
Pennsylvania  troops.  From  that  time  the 
cause  of  the  Confederacy  was  a  losing  one, 
and  for  that  reason  the  monument  is 
inscribed  as  marking  "The  High  Water 
Mark  of  the  Rebellion." 


MEN  OF  IRON  17 

It  is  not  inconceivable  that,  when  the  time 
comes  to  erect  monuments  on  the  battle- 
fields of  the  Great  War,  one  will  stand  at 
or  near  the  tiny  village  of  St.  Agnan,  in  the 
Department  of  the  Aisne,  France,  fixing 
the  "high-water  mark"  of  the  German  bid 
for  world  domination. 

Here  it  was,  at  this  village  and  its  vicin- 
ity, that  Pennsylvania  troops  met  and 
defeated  the  fiower  of  the  German  army, 
halted  the  drive  and  sent  the  Huns  stag- 
gering backward  in  what  turned,  within  a 
few  days,  to  wild  flight.  The  Germans,  in 
their  first  rush  through  Belgium  and  France 
in  1914,  came  closer  than  that  to  Paris, 
but  with  less  chance  of  success.  Then 
virtually  everything  was  against  them  ex- 
cept the  tremendous  impetus  of  their  for- 
ward movement.  In  July,  1918,  everything 
favored  them,  and  the  entire  world  awaited 
with  bated  breath  and  agonized  heart  the 
news  that  Paris  was  invested. 

When  it  seemed  that  nothing  could  pre- 
vent this  crowning  blow  to  our  beloved 
Ally,  the  advancing  Germans  struck  a 
portion  of  the  line  held  by  Pennsylvania's 
erstwhile  despised  National  Guardsmen, 
Instead  of  news  that  Paris  lay  under  the 


18  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

invader's  heel  came  the  gloriously  thrilling 
tidings  that  the  German  was  in  retreat 
before  our  very  own  men,  and  that  it  was 
again  Pennsylvania  troops  which  had  turned 
the  tide. 

To  get  a  proper  perspective  on  the  organ- 
izations comprising  the  Iron  Division,  it  is 
necessary  to  go  back  a  few  years  in  the 
history  of  the  National  Guard,  before  the 
various  reorganizations  to  which  it  was 
subjected.  The  division  was  a  product  of 
gradual  growth  since  the  Spanish-American 
War.  After  that  brief  conflict,  the  National 
Guard  of  Pennsylvania  set  out  upon  a  new 
course  of  development  almost  as  a  new 
organization. 

In  1916,  it  consisted  of  four  infantry 
brigades  of  three  regiments  each;  one 
regiment  of  artillery;  one  battalion  of 
engineers;  one  battalion  of  signal  troops; 
two  field  hospitals,  three  ambulance  com- 
panies and  one  regiment  of  cavalry. 

The  call  for  service  in  the  threatened 
war  with  Mexico,  resulting  in  a  tedious 
tour  of  duty  at  Camp  Stewart,  Texas,  on 
the  Mexican  border,  caused  lively  recruit- 
ing and  the  upbuilding  of  the  units.  This 
jras  nearly  offset  on  the  return  home  by 


MEN  OF  IRON  19 

the  eagerness  of  officers  and  enlisted  men, 
disgusted  with  the  fruitless  task  assigned 
them  on  the  border,  to  get  out  of  the  serv- 
ice. When  America  entered  the  war 
against  Germany,  however,  recruiting  again 
livened  up,  but  in  the  meantime  the  tables 
of  organization  of  the  whole  army  had 
been  so  changed  and  the  regiments  so 
enlarged  that  it  was  necessary  to  send 
quotas  of  selected  men  to  fill  the  ranks  to 
the  required  strength. 

During  the  service  on  the  Mexican  bor- 
der, a  brigade  of  artillery  had  been  formed 
and  the  number  of  infantry  brigades  was 
reduced  to  three.  Also,  a  start  was  made 
on  the  work  of  expanding  the  engineer 
battalion  into  a  regiment. 

The  division  moved  into  camp  at 
Augusta,  Ga.,  from  August  20  to  Septem- 
ber 15,  1917.  The  post  was  known  as 
Camp  Hancock.  Here  the  drafts  of  selected 
men  were  received  and  the  division  was 
completely  reorganized  to  conform  to  the 
new  army  standards.  New  designations 
also  were  awarded  the  units.  It  was 
necessary  to  reduce  the  number  of  infantry 
brigades  to  two,  of  two  regiments  each. 
The   First   Infantry   Regiment,    of   Phila- 


20  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

delphia;  the  Tenth,  of  Philippine  fame, 
hailing  from  counties  in  the  southwestern 
part  of  the  state;  the  Sixteenth,  centering 
in  the  oil  country  of  the  northwest,  and  the 
Eighteenth,  of  Pittsburgh,  were  chosen  as 
base  regiments,  to  retain  their  regimental 
organizations  virtually  intact. 

The  Thirteenth  Infantry  Regiment,  of 
Scranton  and  vicinity,  was  broken  up  and 
its  oflScers  and  men  turned  into  the  First 
to  bring  the  companies  up  to  the  required 
strength.  In  the  same  manner,  the  Third, 
of  Philadelphia,  was  consolidated  with  the 
Tenth;  the  Eighth,  from  Harrisburg  and 
vicinity,  with  the  Sixteenth,  and  the  Sixth, 
from  Philadelphia  and  surrounding  counties, 
with  the  Eighteenth. 

The  former  First  and  Thirteenth  became 
the  109th  Infantry,  in  the  new  designa- 
tions; the  former  Third  and  Tenth,  the 
110th;  the  former  Sixth  and  Eighteenth, 
the  111th,  and  the  former  Eighth  and 
Sixteenth,  the  112th. 

The  former  First  Artillery,  whose  batter- 
ies were  distributed  through  the  state  from 
Pittsburgh  to  Phcenixville,  became  the 
107th  Field  Artillery;  the  historic  old 
Second  Infantry,  transformed  into  the  Sec- 


MEN  OF  IRON  21 

ond  Artillery  during  the  border  duty, 
whose  home  station  is  Philadelphia,  became 
the  108th  Field  Artillery.  The  Third 
Artillery,  which  had  been  formed  from  the 
former  Ninth  Infantry,  of  Wilkes-Barre 
and  the  surrounding  anthracite  towns,  be- 
came the  109th  Field  Artillery. 

The  cavalry  regiment  disappeared.  One 
troop,  from  Sunbury,  remained  cavalry, 
being  attached  to  division  headquarters  as 
Headquarters  Troop.  The  rest  were  scat- 
tered through  different  organizations.  The 
103d  Trench  Mortar  Battery  was  formed 
almost  entirely  from  among  the  cavalry- 
men, largely  members  of  the  famous  old 
First  City  Troop  of  Philadelphia. 

The  engineer  regiment  became  the  103d 
Engineers,  the  signal  troops  the  103d  Field 
Signal  Battalion,  and  the  field  hospitals 
and  ambulance  companies  became  parts 
of  the  103d  Sanitary  Train.  In  addition, 
there  were  formed  the  103d  Military 
Police,  the  103d  Ammunition  Train,  the 
103d  Supply  Train,  and  the  107th,  108th 
and  109th  Machine  Gun  battalions. 

The  109th  and  110th  Infantry  regiments 
were  brigaded  together  under  the  designa- 
tion of  the  55th  Infantry  Brigade.     The 


22  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

111th  and  112th  regiments  became  the 
56th  Infantry  Brigade  and  the  three 
artillery  regiments  and  the  trench  mor- 
tar battery  became  the  53d  Artillery 
Brigade. 

There  were  other  Pennsylvanians — ^many 
thousands  of  them — in  the  war,  but  no 
other  organization  so  represented  every 
locality  and  every  stratum  of  society. 

And  so  the  division  went  to  France. 
The  movement  to  a  port  of  embarkation 
began  in  April,  1918,  and  the  convoy 
carrying  the  eager  soldiers  arrived  in  a 
French  port  May  18th.  The  troops  were 
separated  by  organizations,  brigaded  with 
British  troops  in  training  areas  and  entered 
upon  the  final  phases  of  their  instruction. 
The  men  were  discouraged  by  their  excep- 
tionally long  period  of  preparation.  They 
felt  within  themselves  that  they  were 
ready  for  the  front  line,  and  the  evident 
hesitation  of  the  military  authorities  to 
put  them  there  was  distressing.  Many  of 
them  began  to  doubt  that  they  would  see 
actual  fighting.  They  had  longed  and 
waited  for  so  many  months  that  it  is  no 
exaggeration,  on  the  word  of  men  who  have 
returned,  to  say  that  their  very  dreams 


c  e    t      «    e 


MEN  OF  IRON  23 

were  colored  with  the  keen  desire  to  try 
their  mettle  on  the  enemy. 

According  to  the  system  worked  out  by 
the  high  command  for  bringing  new  troops 
up  to  front  line  caliber,  they  should  then 
have  gone  into  their  own  camp  within 
sound  of  the  guns,  but  behind  the  actual 
"zone  of  operations."  There  the  division 
should  have  been  reassembled  and  gotten 
to  functioning  properly  and  smoothly  as  a 
division,  and  then  have  been  moved  up  by 
easy  stages.  It  should  have  occupied  one 
billet  area  after  another,  each  closer  to  the 
lines,  until  it  should  actually  have  been 
under  artillery  fire  behind  the  fighting  line. 
Then,  with  its  nerves  tautened  and  having 
learned,  possibly  through  some  losses,  how 
best  to  take  care  of  and  protect  itself,  it 
would  at  last  have  been  sent  into  the  front 
line,  but  even  then  not  without  some  mis- 
givings and  it  would  have  been  carefully 
watched  to  see  that  it  reacted  properly  to 
the  new  conditions. 

In  the  progress  of  this  customary  routine, 
the  work  of  assembling  the  division  was 
begun  a  few  miles  northwest  of  Paris. 
Division  headquarters  was  established  at 
Gonesse,  a  little  over  ten  miles  from  the 


U  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

heart  of  Paris.  The  infantry  regiments 
and  the  engineers  were  scattered  through  a 
myriad  of  villages  in  the  vicinity,  billeted 
in  houses,  stables,  buildings  of  any  kind 
that  could  be  turned  to  adequate  shelters. 

Established  thus,  the  organizations  ex- 
tended over  a  considerable  stretch  of  ter- 
ritory. The  109th,  for  instance,  was  at 
Mitry  and  Mory,  twin  villages,  but  a  short 
distance  apart  and  usually  referred  to,  for 
convenience,  as  one  place,  Mitry -Mory, 
eight  miles  by  airline  from  division  head- 
quarters. 

The  53rd  Artillery  Brigade  still  was  hard 
at  its  training  work  miles  away  and  the 
doughboys,  surmising  that  they  would  not 
be  withheld  from  action  to  wait  for  the 
guns,  gave  thanks  that  it  was  the  old 
Second,  and  not  one  of  their  regiments, 
that  had  been  turned  into  artillery.  Men 
of  the  old  Third,  particularly,  recalled  that 
it  had  been  generally  expected,  when  there 
was  talk  of  transforming  an  infantry  regi- 
ment to  artillery,  that  their's  would  be  the 
regiment  to  be  chosen,  and  that  the  naming 
of  the  Second  had  come  as  something  of  a 
surprise. 


CHAPTER  II 

Off  for  the  Front 

THE  infantry  regiments  had  been 
assembled  during  June  and  a  long 
and  a  wearisome  wait  impended 
while  other  units  moved  into  the  divisional 
concentration.  No  leaves  were  granted 
to  go  to  Paris,  although  the  crown  of  the 
Eiffel  Tower  could  be  descried  above  the 
haze  from  the  city  by  day  and  at  night 
the  searchlights,  thrusting  inquisitive  fin- 
gers of  light  through  the  far  reaches  of  the 
sky  in  search  of  prowling  Hun  airmen, 
seemed  to  point  the  way  to  joys  to  which 
all  had  long  been  strangers. 

From  the  other  direction  came,  when  the 
wind  was  right,  the  dull  rumbling,  like 
distant  thunder,  which  they  had  learned 
was  the  guns. 

Longings  were  about  evenly  divided 
between  the  two  directions.  If  they  could 
not  go  up  to  the  front,  whither  they  had 
been  headed  for  these  many  months,  they 
would  have  liked  to  go  to  Paris.     Failing 

(25) 


26  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

of  both  the  front  and  Paris,  they  would 
have  Hked  to  go  "any  old  place  away 
from  here."  Which  is  typical  of  the  soldier, 
"here,"  wherever  it  may  be,  always  being 
the  least  desirable  place  in  the  world. 

So  the  doughboys  and  engineers  whiled 
away  the  long,  warm  days,  drilling  and 
hiking,  doing  much  bayonet  work,  polishing 
and  cleaning  rifles  and  other  equipment 
and  variously  putting  in  the  time  as  best 
they  could,  and  fretting  all  the  time  for  a 
chance  at  real  action.  That  may  be  said 
to  have  been  one  of  the  most  trying  periods 
of  their  long  probation. 

It  may  not  be  amiss  to  recall  the  general 
situation  on  the  Western  Front  at  this 
time.  After  a  winter  of  boastful  prepara- 
tion, during  which  they  advertised  in 
every  possible  way  that  they  expected  to 
launch  in  the  spring  the  greatest  effort 
they  had  yet  put  forth  to  break  through  the 
Allied  lines,  the  Germans,  on  March  21st, 
strengthened  by  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
veteran  soldiers  released  from  Russia 
through  the  farcical  Brest-Litovsk  treaty, 
boiled  forth  from  their  lines  on  the  fifty- 
mile  front  from  Arras  to  La  Fere. 

This  was  an  effort  to  force  a  break  at 


OFF  FOR  THE  FRONT         27 

the  juncture  of  the  French  and  British 
Hnes  about  St.  Quentin.  It  did  not  suc- 
ceed in  this,  but  a  great  wedge  was  thrust 
out  to  become  a  grave  menace  to  Amiens, 
an  important  British  distribution  center. 

Very  shortly  after  this  move  was  checked, 
the  British  army  in  Flanders  was  heavily 
attacked,  on  April  9th,  in  the  region  of 
Ypres,  and  thrown  back  so  badly  that  Field 
Marshal  Haig  issued  his  famous  appeal  to  the 
troops  "fighting  with  their  backs  to  the  wall." 

The  British  line  finally  held,  and,  French 
reinforcements  arriving,  began  to  react 
strongly  in  counter-attacks.  Again  the 
boiling  western  line  simmered  down,  but 
on  May  27th  the  German  Crown  Prince's 
army  flung  itself  out  from  the  Chemin  des 
Dames,  in  Champagne,  and  by  June  3d  had 
reached  the  Marne  at  Chateau-Thierry. 
Here  forces  which  made  their  way  across 
the  river  were  hotly  attacked  and  driven 
back,  and  this  drive  came  to  a  halt. 

One  week  later,  on  June  10th,  the  fight- 
ing was  renewed  from  Montdidier  to  Noyon 
in  a  thrust  for  Compiegne  as  a  key  to  Paris. 
This  was  plainly  an  effort  to  widen  the  wedge 
whose  apex  was  at  Chateau-Thierry,  but 
Foch  had  outguessed  the  Germans,  knew 


28  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

where  they  would  strike  and  held  them. 
The  attack  was  fairly  well  checked  in  two 
days. 

This  was  the  situation,  then,  in  those 
late  June  days,  when  our  Pennsylvania 
soldiers  pined  for  action  within  sight  of 
Paris.  The  American  army  had  been 
blooded  in  the  various  drives,  but  the 
Twenty-eighth  Division  had  not  yet  had  a 
taste  of  the  Hun  action.  Marines,  the 
First  and  Second  divisions  of  the  Regular 
army,  engineers  and  medical  troops,  had  had 
a  gallant  part  in  the  defense  of  Paris,  and 
even  in  defense  of  the  channel  ports,  in  the 
Flanders  thrust. 

Dormans,  Torcy,  Bouresches,  Bois  de 
Belleau,  Cantigny,  Jaulgonne,  these  and 
other  localities  had  won  place  in  the  annals 
of  American  arms.  Wherever  they  had 
come  in  contact  with  the  enemy,  without 
exception,  the  American  troops  had  "made 
good,"  and  won  the  high  encomiums  of 
their  British  and  French  comrades.  Is  it 
any  wonder,  then,  that  the  Pennsylvanians 
chafed  at  the  restraint  which  held  them 
far  away  from  where  such  great  things 
were  going  forward  .^^ 

It  was  at  the  critical  juncture  in  March, 


OFF  FOR  THE  FRONT         29 

the  darkest  hour  of  the  Allied  cause,  that 
President  Wilson,  waiving  any  question  of 
national  pride,  directed  General  Pershing 
to  offer  such  troops  as  he  had  available  to 
be  brigaded  with  the  French  and  English 
to  meet  the  German  assaults. 

The  reason  for  this  was  simple.  The 
American  army  had  not  yet  been  welded 
into  a  cohesive  whole.  Its  staff  work  was 
deficient.  It  was  merely  a  conglomeration 
of  divisions,  each  possibly  capable  of  oper- 
ating as  a  division,  but  the  whole  utterly 
unable  to  operate  as  a  whole.  By  putting 
a  brigade  of  Americans  in  a  French  or 
British  division,  however,  the  forces  of  our 
co-belligerents  could  be  strengthened  to  the 
full  extent  of  the  available  American  troops. 

The  American  offer  was  promptly  and 
gratefully  accepted.  Came  the  day,  then, 
when  our  Pennsylvania  men  were  ordered 
to  move  up  to  a  sector  below  the  Marne, 
there  to  be  brigaded  with  a  French  army. 
The  artillery  brigade  had  not  yet  come 
into  the  divisional  lines  and  few,  even  of 
the  oflScers,  had  seen  their  comrades  of  the 
big  guns  since  leaving  Camp  Hancock. 

Of  all  this,  of  course,  the  men  in  the 
ranks  knew  nothing.     To  them  came  only 


so  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

the  command  to  "fall  in,"  which  had 
always  presaged  the  same  weary  routine 
of  drill  and  hike.  This  time,  however, 
when  they  found  lines  of  motor  trucks 
stretching  along  the  road  seemingly  for 
miles,  they  knew  there  was  "something 
doing"  and  word  swept  through  the  ranks 
that  they  were  off  for  the  front  at  last. 

When  the  truck  trains  got  under  way 
with  tlieir  singing,  laughing,  highly  cheer- 
ful loads  of  doughboys  and  engineers,  it 
was  not  directly  northward,  toward  Mont- 
didier,  nor  northeast,  toward  Soissons, 
where  the  latest  heavy  fighting  had  been 
going  on,  that  they  moved,  as  the  men  had 
hoped,  but  eastward. 

Through  Meaux  and  La  Ferte-sous- 
Jouarre  they  moved.  At  the  latter  place 
they  came  to  the  Petit  Morin  River  and 
from  there  on  the  road  followed  the  valley 
of  the  little  river  more  or  less  closely. 
Through  pretty  little  villages  and,  here  and 
there,  more  pretentious  towns  they  whirled, 
singing  as  the  spirit  moved  them  and  wav- 
ing cheery  greetings  to  the  townsfolk,  who, 
apathetic  at  the  sound  of  many  motors, 
stirred  to  excitement  when  they  reaUzed  the 
soldiers  were  "les  Americaines." 


OFF  FOR  THE  FRONT         31 

After  their  period  of  inaction,  the  men 
enjoyed  the  ride  immensely,  even  thou^ii 
a  crowded  motor  truck  careering  at  fall 
tilt  is  not  the  most  luxurious  mode  of 
travel,  especially  for  those  on  the  inside. 
It  is,  however,  so  much  better  than  hiking 
that  your  soldier  regards  transportation 
thus  almost  as  he  would  riding  in  a  Pull- 
man at  home. 

When  at  last  the  column  came  to  a  halt, 
those  in  the  vanguard  learned  the  town  at 
hand  was  Montmirail.  Except  that  it  was 
east  of  where  they  had  been,  this  meant 
little.  They  had  small  idea  of  the  number 
of  miles  they  had  traveled,  but  they  knew 
from  the  looks  of  the  country  and  from  the 
attitude  of  the  eagerly  welcoming  residents 
that  they  were  not  very  close  to  the  battle 
line. 

Clustered  all  about  the  countryside  for 
miles  were  countless  villages.  Part  of  the 
troops  passed  through  Montmirail  and 
went  further  east  to  Vauchamps.  The 
trucks  in  the  rear  of  the  long  column 
turned  off  at  Verdelot.  In  the  tiny  ham- 
lets centering  about  these  three  towns,  the 
regiments  were  billeted. 

Then  ensued  another  period  such  as  tries 


32  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

a  soldier's  patience  to  the  uttermost — a  time 
of  waiting  for  something  big  to  do  and  hav- 
ing all  the  time  to  carry  on  with  what 
seem  like  trifling  tasks. 

Here  another  feature  of  the  advanced 
training  was  noted  by  the  men.  For 
weeks,  now,  they  had  been  hearing  the 
sound  of  the  big  guns  at  the  front,  but  only 
as  a  low,  growling  rumble,  so  distant  that, 
although  it  was  ever  present,  after  a  day 
or  so  it  became  so  much  a  part  of  the 
daily  life  that  it  was  forced  upon  the  atten- 
tion only  when  the  wind  was  from  the 
northeast. 

Here,  however,  it  was  louder  and  more 
menacing  and  by  that  token  alone  the 
men  would  have  known  they  were  closer 
to  the  front  lines.  Their  surmises  in  this 
regard  were  strengthened  by  the  added 
gravity  of  the  officers  and  the  frequency 
with  which  they  were  summoned  to  head- 
quarters for  consultation. 

The  Pennsylvania  regiments  were  in  a 
line  some  miles  back  of  the  front,  which 
was  held  by  French  troops  along  the  Marne. 
The  distance  between  our  men  and  the  front 
lines  then  varied  from  ten  to  fourteen  miles. 

By  the  time  the  men  had  been  in  these 


OFF  FOR  THE  FRONT         33 

billets  three  days,  they  were  disgusted 
thoroughly  with  their  failure  to  get  farther. 
Hourly  they  grumbled  among  themselves 
at  the  delay,  and  told  themselves  it  was 
"N.  G.  P.  luck,"  to  be  held  back  so  far 
at  such  a  time. 

However,  there  came  a  break  in  the 
monotony  for  the  109th.  The  men  of  the 
various  regiments  had  been  arranging  for 
a  mild  sort  of  celebration  of  the  Fourth  of 
July,  with  extra  "eats,"  concerts,  sports 
and  other  events.  The  109th  had  gone  to 
sleep  the  night  of  Wednesday,  July  3d,  to 
dream  of  the  "doings"  of  the  morrow, 
which  loomed  large  in  view  of  the  deadly 
routine  they  had  been  following  so  long. 

They  were  not  to  sleep  long,  however. 
Shortly  after  midnight  they  were  routed 
out  and  the  companies  were  formed. 
"Something  was  up,"  though  the  men  in 
the  ranks  knew  not  what.  Officers  knew 
that  an  emergency  had  arisen  to  the  north 
and  that  they  were  under  orders  to  hasten 
there  with  all  speed,  presumably  for  their 
first  action. 

The  lads  stumbled  from  their  billets, 
many  of  them  no  more  than  half  awake, 
doubting,  confused,  excited,  demanding  to 


34  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

know,  being  told  wild  rumors  by  their 
fellows,  the  most  credible  of  which  was 
that  the  Germans  had  broken  through  in 
the  north  and  that  "the  old  Hundred  and 
Ninth  is  goin'  in  to  stop  Fritz,  an'  we  sure 
will  do  that  li'l  thing."  Small  wonder 
that  there  was  more  than  a  usual  touch  of 
asperity  in  the  commands  snapped  out  in 
the  dark,  or  that  the  doughboys  seemed 
able  to  handle  themselves  and  their  accou- 
trements less  smoothly  and  smartly  than 
usual.  Off  to  the  front  at  last,  in  the  dead 
of  night!  What  an  experience  for  these 
Pennsylvania  men! 

That  the  emergency  was  real  and  that 
they  were  not  merely  the  victims  of  another 
practice  hike,  soon  became  clear.  Hardly 
was  the  column  under  way  than  the  order 
"double-time"  was  given  and  off  they  went 
at  the  smart  dog  trot  that  takes  the  place 
of  running  for  an  army  on  the  march.  Only 
Vhen  men  began  to  lag  behind  was  the 
return  to  regular  "quick-time"  ordered. 
Officers  and  non-coms  busied  themselves 
with  urging  on  would-be  stragglers,  keeping 
the  ranks  closed  up  and  encouraging  the  men. 

Hours  passed  thus.  The  thrumming  of  a 
motor  was  heard  ahead  and  the  column 


OFF  FOR  THE  FRONT  35 

halted.  A  sidecar  motorcycle  appeared. 
Riding  in  the  "tin  bathtub"  was  a  staff 
officer.  He  talked  aside  briefly  with  Col- 
onel Millard  D.  Brown,  of  Philadelphia. 
His  message  was  that  the  regiment  would 
not  be  needed  at  that  time  and  that  it  was 
to  return  to  billets. 

A  short  rest  was  ordered.  The  men 
dropped  almost  where  they  stood,  many 
not  waiting  to  unsling  their  equipment. 
Not  until  daybreak  was  the  order  given 
for  the  return  march.  The  men  thought 
of  the  weary  miles  they  had  come  in  the 
cool  of  the  night,  glanced  up  at  the  scorch- 
ing sun,  remembered  that  lost  Fourth  cele- 
bration, and  set  off  on  the  return  march, 
slower  and  more  wearisome  than  the  north- 
ward journey,  when  every  yard  seemed  a 
task  to  face. 

It  was  not  until  the  day  was  almost 
gone  that  the  last  company  was  safely 
back  in  billets.  The  Glorious  Fourth — 
truly  the  strangest  the  men  ever  had  spent 
— ^had  come  and  gone.  As  they  dropped 
into  exhausted  sleep  that  night,  the  last 
thought  of  many  was  of  the  familiar  cele- 
brations of  the  day  at  home  and  of  what 
their  loved  ones  had  been  doing. 


36  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

When  word  had  filtered  through  to  the 
other  regiments  that  the  109th  was  on  its 
way  to  the  front,  the  celebration  of  the 
Fourth  had  turned  to  ashes  in  their  mouths 
and  they  very  frankly  were  green  with  envy. 
When  they  heard  the  next  day  of  the  out- 
come of  the  move,  they  chuckled  at  the 
discomfiture  of  the  109th  and  regretted  they 
had  not  put  more  "pep"  into  the  events  of 
the  day  before. 

Some  days  before  this,  several  platoons 
of  picked  men  from  the  division  had  been 
sent  into  a  sector  west  of  Chateau-Thierry 
for  advanced  training  under  fire  with  French 
forces.  They  were  not  expected  to  have  a 
very  hot  time.  The  sector  was  extremely 
lively,  but  not  just  then  flaming  with 
activity,  as  were  other  places. 

Two  of  these  platoons,  from  the  111th 
Infantry,  under  command  of  Lieutenants 
Cedric  H.  Benz  and  John  H.  Shenkel,  both 
of  Pittsburgh,  made  an  extraordinarily 
good  impression  on  their  French  comrades. 
The  sector  continually  grew  hotter  and 
hotter  until  the  French,  early  in  July, 
launched  repeated  attacks  on  the  village  of 
Vaux  and  on  Hill  204,  close  by. 

These   two   positions    were    particularly 


OFF  FOR  THE  FRONT  37 

difficult,  and  the  French  went  about  their 
operations  under  the  watchful  eyes  of  the 
learning  Americans  with  all  the  skill  and 
craft  that  long  campaigning  had  taught 
them.  Finally,  just  about  the  time  their 
own  regiments  back  in  billets  to  the  east 
were  growing  stale  from  monotony,  the 
Americans  around  Vaux  were  invited  to 
occupy  positions  where  they  could  observe 
closely  the  whole  operation.  The  platoons 
from  the  111th  had  made  such  a  favorable 
impression  on  their  French  hosts  that  the 
commander  of  the  latter  made  a  proposal  to 
them. 

"You  will  have  every  opportunity  to 
observe  the  action,"  he  said,  "and  that  is  all 
that  is  expected  of  you.  If,  however,  you 
so  desire,  such  of  your  numbers  as  care  to 
may  participate  in  the  assault  on  Hill  204." 

Participation  in  the  attack  was  voluntary. 
Those  who  wanted  to  go  were  invited  to 
step  out  of  the  ranks.  The  two  platoons 
stepped  forward  as  one  man,  went  into  the 
battle  beside  the  French  and  under  French 
command,  laughing  and  singing,  and  cov- 
ered themselves  with  glory.  This  was  the 
first  occasion  in  which  units  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania Division  had  been  in  action,  but 


38  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

as  it  was  not  under  their  own  commanders 
it  cannot  properly  be  regarded  as  a  part  of 
the  divisional  activity. 

Word  of  this  action  seeped  back  to  the 
regiments  and  created  a  profound  impres- 
sion. The  doughboys  talked  about  and 
envied  their  companions  and  pledged  them- 
selves, each  in  his  own  heart,  to  maintain 
that  high  standard  of  soldierly  character 
when  the  moment  arrived. 

Meantime,  the  regiments  had  gone  plug- 
ging ahead  with  their  training  work — trifle 
shooting,  bayonet  work,  hikes  and  practice 
attacks  succeeding  each  other  in  bewilder- 
ing variety. 

The  work  was  interrupted  July  5th  by  the 
arrival  of  messengers  from  brigade  head- 
quarters. The  regiments  were  to  move  up 
in  closer  support  of  the  French  lines. 
Marshal  Foch  had  shepherded  the  Ger- 
mans into  a  position  where  their  only 
possibility  for  further  attack  lay  almost 
straight  south  from  the  tip  of  the  Soissons- 
Rheims  salient.  The  French  forces  there 
were  expected  to  make  the  crossing  of  the 
Marne  so  hazardous  and  costly  an  enter- 
prise that  the  Germans  either  would  give 
it  up  almost  at  the  outset,  or  would  be  so 


OFF  FOR  THE  FRONT  39 

harassed  that  the  push  could  gain  Httle 
headway.  In  any  event,  the  American  sup- 
port troops — including  our  own  Pennsyl- 
vanians — ^were  depended  on  to  reinforce 
the  line  at  any  critical  moment.  And  for 
that  reason  it  was  imperative  that  they 
be  within  easier  striking  distance. 

So,  very  early  on  the  morning  of  July 
6th,  the  bugles  roused  the  men  from  their 
slumbers  and  word  was  passed  by  the  ser- 
geants to  hurry  the  usual  morning  duties, 
as  there  was  "something  doing."  No 
larger  hint  was  needed.  Dressing,  washing, 
"police  duty"  and  breakfast  never  were 
dispensed  with  more  rapidly,  and  in  less 
than  an  hour  after  first  call  the  regiments 
were  ready  to  move. 

The  110th,  the  111th  and  the  engineers 
moved  off  without  incident,  other  than  the 
keen  interest  aroused  by  the  increasing 
clamor  of  the  guns  as  they  marched  north- 
ward, to  the  new  positions  assigned  them. 
Parts  of  their  routes  lay  over  some  of  the 
famous  roads  of  France  that  had  not 
suffered  yet  from  the  barbarous  invaders, 
and  made  fairly  easy  going.  At  times  they 
had  to  strike  across  country  to  gain  a  new 
and  more  available  road. 


40  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

A  doughboy,  pressing  close  to  where  a 
fine  old  tree  leaned  protectingly  across  the 
sun-baked  road,  reached  up  and  pulled  a 
leafy  twig.  He  thrust  it  into  the  air  hole 
in  his  hat,  and  laughingly  remarked  that 
"now  he  was  camouflaged."  His  comrades 
paid  no  attention  until  he  remarked  later 
that  it  was  a  good  thing  to  have,  as  it 
helped  keep  the  flies  away.  Thereafter 
there  were  many  grasping  hands  when 
trees  or  bushes  were  within  reach,  and  before 
noon  the  men  bore  some  semblance  to  the 
Italian  Bersaglieri,  who  wear  plumed  hats. 

The  going  was  not  so  smooth  for  the 
109th,  however.  The  farther  the  regiment 
moved  along  its  northward  road  the  louder 
and  more  emphatic  became  the  cannonad- 
ing. Both  the  officers  and  men  realized 
they  were  getting  very  much  closer  to 
artillery  fire  than  they  had  been.  A 
spirit  of  tense,  nervous  eagerness  pervaded 
the  ranks.  The  goal  of  the  long  months 
of  hard  training,  the  achievement  of  all 
their  dreams  and  desires,  seemed  just  ahead. 

They  had  passed  the  little  village  of 
Artonges,  where  the  tiny  Dhuys  River,  no 
more  than  a  bush  and  tree-bordered  run, 
swung  over  and  joined  their  road  to  keep 


OFF  FOR  THE  FRONT  41 

it  company  on  the  northward  route, 
Pargny-la-Dhuys  was  almost  in  sight,  when 
a  shell — their  first  sight  of  one  in  action — 
exploded  in  a  field  a  few  hundred  yards  to 
one  side. 

At  almost  the  same  time  an  oflBcer  came 
dashing  down  the  road.  He  brought  orders 
from  brigade  headquarters  for  the  regiment 
to  turn  off  the  road  and  take  cover  in  a 
woods.  Pargny  and  the  whole  countryside 
about  were  being  shelled  vigorously  by 
the  Germans  with  a  searching  fire  in  an 
effort  to  locate  French  batteries. 

The  shelling  continued  with  little  cessa- 
tion, while  the  109th  in  vexation  hid  in  the 
woods  south  of  Pargny.  The  doughboys 
became  convinced  firmly  that  the  Germans 
loiew  they  were  on  the  way  to  the  front 
and  deliberately  were  trying  to  prevent 
them,  through  sheer  fear  of  their  well- 
known  prowess.  For  many  a  Pennsylvania 
soldier  had  been  telling  his  comrades  and 
everybody  else  for  so  long  that  "there 
won't  be  anything  to  it  when  this  division 
gets  into  action,"  that  he  had  the  idea 
fixed  in  his  mind  that  the  Germans  must 
be  convinced  of  the  same  thing. 

Three  times  the  cannonade  slackened  and 


42  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

the  heckled  Pargny  was  left  out  of  the  zone 
of  fire.  Each  time  the  109th  sallied  forth 
from  its  green  shelter  and  started  ahead. 
Each  time,  just  as  it  got  well  away  and  its 
spirits  had  begun  to  "perk  up"  again,  the 
big  guns  began  to  roar  at  the  town  and  they 
turned  back. 

This  continued  until  July  10th.  When 
orders  came  that  morning  for  the  regiment 
to  proceed  northward,  there  was  much 
gibing  at  Fritz  and  his  spite  against  the 
regiment  and  little  hope  that  the  procedure 
would  be  anything  more  than  another 
march  up  the  road  and  back  again. 

Surprise  was  in  store,  however.  This 
time  the  guns  were  pointed  in  other  direc- 
tions, and  the  regiment  went  over  the  hill, 
through  what  was  left  of  Pargny  after  its 
several  days  of  German  "hate,"  and  on  up 
the  road. 

Just  when  spirits  were  soaring  again 
at  the  prospect  of  marching  right  up  to  the 
fighting  front,  came  another  disappoint- 
ment for  the  men.  A  short  distance  north 
of  Pargny,  the  column  turned  into  a  field 
on  the  right  of  the  road  and  made  its  way 
into  a  deep  ravine  bordering  the  northern 
side  of  the  field.     Ensued  another  period  of 


OFF  FOR  THE  FRONT         43 

grumbling  and  fault-finding  among  the 
men,  who  could  not  understand  why  they 
still  saw  nothing  of  the  war  at  first  hand. 

The  discussion  was  at  its  height  as  the 
men  made  camp,  when  it  was  interrupted 
by  a  screeching  roar  overhead,  followed 
almost  instantaneously  by  a  terrific  crash 
in  the  field  above  their  heads  and  to  the 
south. 

"Whang"  came  another  shell  of  smaller 
caliber  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  and 
then  the  frightful  orchestra  was  again  in 
full  swing.  Suddenly  that  little  ravine 
seemed  a  rather  desirable  place  to  be,  after 
all.  Most  of  the  men  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  be  in  position  to  do  some  retalia- 
tory work,  rather  than  sit  still  and  have 
those  shells  shrieking  through  the  air  in 
search  of  them,  but  the  shelter  of  the  hol- 
low was  much  more  to  be  desired  than 
marching  up  the  open  road  in  the  teeth  of 
shell  fire. 

An  air  of  pride  sat  on  many  of  the  men. 
"Old  Fritz  must  know  the  109th  is  some- 
where around,"  they  reasoned. 

Three  days  passed  thus,  with  the  regi- 
ment "holed  up"  against  the  almost  con- 
tinuous bombardment.     Little  lulls  would 


44  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

come  in  the  fire  and  the  men  would  snatch 
some  sleep,  only  to  be  roused  by  a  renewal 
of  the  racket,  for  they  had  not  yet  reached 
that  stage  of  old  hands  at  the  front,  where 
they  sleep  undisturbed  through  the  most 
vigorous  shelling,  only  to  be  roused  by  the 
unaccustomed  silence  when  the  big  guns 
quit  baying. 

Runners  maintaining  liaison  with  brigade 
headquarters  and  the  other  regiments  were 
both  better  off  and  worse  ofiP,  according  to 
the  point  of  view.  Theirs  was  an  exceed- 
ingly hazardous  duty,  with  none  of  the 
relatively  safe  shelter  of  the  regiment,  but, 
too,  it  had  that  highly  desirable  spice  of 
real  danger  and  adventure  that  had  been  a 
potent  influence  in  luring  these  men  to 
France. 

Liaison,  in  a  military  sense,  is  the  main- 
taining of  communications.  It  is  essential 
at  all  times  that  organizations  operating 
together  should  be  in  close  touch.  To  do 
this  men  frequently  do  the  seemingly 
impossible.  Few  duties  in  the  ranks  of  an 
army  are  more  alluring  to  adventurous 
youth,  more  fraught  with  risk,  or  require 
more  personal  courage,  skill  and  resource- 
fulness. 


OFF  FOR  THE  FRONT  U 

At  last,  however,  the  tedious  wait  came 
to  an  end.  Saturday  night,  July  13th,  the 
usual  hour  for  "taps,"  passed  and  the 
customary  orders  for  the  night  had  not 
been  given.  Toward  midnight,  when  the 
men  were  at  a  fever  heat  of  expectancy, 
having  sensed  "something  doing"  in  the 
very  air,  the  regiment  was  formed  in  light 
marching  order.  This  meant  no  heavy 
packs,  no  extra  clothes,  nothing  but  fight- 
ing equipment  and  two  days'  rations.  It 
certainly  meant  action. 

Straight  northward  through  the  night 
they  marched.  Up  toward  the  Marne  the 
sky  was  aglow  with  star  shells,  flares  and 
shrapnel  and  high  explosives.  The  next 
day,  July  14th,  would  be  Bastille  Day, 
France's  equivalent  of  our  Independence 
Day,  and  the  men  of  the  109th  commented 
among  themselves  as  they  hiked  toward  the 
flaring  uproar  that  it  looked  as  if  it  would  be 
"some  celebration." 

The  head  of  the  column  reached  a  town, 
and  a  glimpse  at  a  map  showed  that  it  was 
Conde-en-Brie,  where  the  little  SurmeUn 
River  joins  the  Dhuys.  Colonel  Brown 
and  the  headquarters  company  swung  out  of 
the  column  to  establish   regimental  post 


46  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

command  there.  The  rest  of  the  regiment 
went  on  northward. 

A  mile  farther  and  a  halt  was  called. 
There  was  a  brief  conference  of  battalion 
conunanders  in  the  gloom  and  then  the 
first  battalion  swung  off  to  the  left,  the 
third  to  the  right  and  the  second  extended 
its  lines  over  the  territory  immediately 
before  it. 

When  all  had  arrived  in  position,  the 
first  battalion  was  on  a  line  just  south  of 
the  tiny  hamlet  of  Monthurel,  northwest 
of  Conde.  The  second  battalion  was 
strung  out  north  of  Conde,  and  the  third 
continued  the  line  north  of  the  hamlet  of 
St.  Agnan,  northeast  of  Conde. 

Then  the  regiment  was  called  on  to  do — 
for  the  first  time  with  any  thought  that  it 
would  be  of  real  present  value  to  them — 
that  which  they  had  learned  to  do,  labor- 
iously, grumblingly  and  with  many  a  sore 
muscle  and  aching  back,  in  camp  after 
camp.     They  "dug  in." 

There  was  no  sleep  that  night,  even  had 
the  excited  fancies  of  the  men  permitted. 
Up  and  down,  up  and  down,  went  the 
sturdy  young  arms,  and  the  dirt  flew  under 
the  attack  of  intrenching  picks  and  shovels. 


OFF  FOR  THE  FRONT  47 

By  daylight  a  long  line  of  pits,  with  the 
earth  taken  out  and  heaped  up  on  the  side 
toward  the  enemy,  scarred  the  fields.  They 
were  not  pretentious,  as  trenches  went  in  the 
war — scarcely  to  be  dignified  with  the 
name  of  trenches — but  the  109th  heaved  a 
sigh  of  relief  and  was  glad  of  even  that 
shelter  as  the  Hun  artillery  renewed  its 
strafing  of  the  countryside. 

Runners  from  the  109th  carried  the  news 
to  brigade  headquarters  that  the  regiment 
was  at  last  on  the  line.  Thence  the  word 
seeped  down  through  the  ranks,  and  the 
men  of  the  110th  and  111th  and  of  the 
engineers  got  little  inklings  of  the  troubles 
their  comrades  of  the  old  First  and  Thir- 
teenth had  experienced  in  reaching  their 
position. 

Roughly,  then,  the  line  of  the  four  regi- 
ments extended  from  near  Chezy,  on  the 
east,  to  the  region  of  Vaux,  beyond  Chateau- 
Thierry,  on  the  west.  The  103d  Engineers 
held  the  eastern  end.  Then  came,  in  the 
order  named,  the  109th,  110th  and  111th. 
The  112th  was  busy  elsewhere,  and  had  not 
joined  the  other  regiment  of  its  brigade, 
the  111th. 


CHAPTER  III 

The  Last  Hun  Drive' 

OUR  Pennsylvania  regiments  now 
were  operating  directly  with  French 
troops,  under  French  higher  com- 
mand, and  in  the  line  they  were  widely 
separated,  with  French  regiments  between. 
The  troops  faced  much  open  country, 
consisting  chiefly  of  the  well-tilled  fields 
for  which  France  is  noted,  with  here  and 
there  a  clump  of  trees  or  bushes,  tiny 
streams,  fences  and  an  occasional  farm 
building.  Beyond  these  lay  a  dense  woods, 
extending  to  the  Marne,  known  variously 
in  the  different  locaHties  by  the  name  of 
the  nearest  town.  The  Bois  de  Conde, 
near  Monthurel,  was  the  scene  of  some  of 
the  stiffest  fighting  that  followed. 

The  real  battle  line  lay  right  along  the 
Valley  of  the  Marne,  a  little  more  than 
two  miles  away,  and  the  men  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania regiments  were  disappointed  again 
to  learn  they  were  not  actually  holding  the 
front  line.     That  was  entirely  in  the  hands 

US) 


THE  LAST  HUN  DRIVE         49 

of  the  French  in  that  sector,  and  French 
officers  who  came  back  to  visit  the  American 
headquarters  and  to  estabHsh  liaison  with 
these  support  troops  confidently  predicted 
that  the  Boche  never  would  get  a  foothold 
on  the  south  bank  of  the  river.  The  river, 
they  said,  was  so  lined  with  machine  gun 
nests  and  barbed  wire  entanglements  that 
nothing  could  pass. 

That  evening,  Sunday,  July  14th,  runners 
brought  messages  from  brigade  headquar- 
ters to  Colonel  Brown,  commanding  the 
109th,  and  Colonel  George  E.  Kemp,  of 
Philadelphia,  commanding  the  110th.  There 
were  little  holes  in  the  French  line  that  it 
was  necessary  to  plug,  and  the  American 
support  was  called  on  to  do  the  plugging. 

Colonel  Brown  ordered  Captain  James 
B.  Cousart,  of  Philadelphia,  acting  com- 
mander of  the  third  battalion,  to  send  two 
companies  forward  to  the  line,  and  Colonel 
Kemp,  from  his  post  command,  despatched 
a  similar  message  to  Major  Joseph  H. 
Thompson,  Beaver  Falls,  commanding  his 
first  battalion. 

Captain  Cousart  led  the  expedition  from 
the  109th  himself,  taking  his  own  company, 
L,  and  Company  M,  commanded  by  Cap- 


50  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

tain  Edward  P.  Mackey,  of  Williamsport. 
Major  Thompson  sent  Companies  B,  of 
New  Brighton,  and  C,  of  Somerset,  from  the 
110th,  commanded  respectively  by  Cap- 
tains William  Fish  and  William  C.  Truxal. 

Captain  Cousart's  little  force  was  estab- 
lished in  the  line.  Company  M  below  Passy- 
sur-Marne,  and  Company  L  back  of  Courte- 
mont-Varennes.  The  two  companies  of  the 
110th  were  back  of  Fossoy  and  Mezy,  di- 
rectly in  the  great  bend  of  the  river.  The 
Dhuys  River  enters  the  Marne  near  that 
point  and  this  river  separated  the  positions 
of  the  109th  and  110th  companies.  Fossoy, 
the  farthest  west  of  these  towns,  is  only 
four  miles  in  an  air  line  from  Chateau- 
Thierry,  and  Passy  is  about  four  miles 
farther  east. 

The  reason  for  this  move  was  two-fold: 
Marshal  Foch  had  manipulated  his  forces 
so  that  it  was  felt  to  be  virtually  certain 
the  next  outbreak  of  the  Germans  could  be 
made  only  at  one  point,  directly  southwest 
from  Chateau-Thierry.  If  the  expected 
happened,  the  green  Pennsylvania  troops 
would  receive  their  baptism  of  fire  within 
the  zone  of  the  operation,  but  not  in  the 
direct    line    of    the    thrust.      Thus,    they 


THE  LAST  HUN  DRIVE        51 

would  become  seasoned  to  fire  without 
bearing  the  responsibility  of  actually  stop- 
ping a  determined  effort. 

The  second  reason  was  that  the  French 
had  been  making  heavy  concentrations 
around  Chateau-Thierry,  and  their  line  to 
the  east  was  too  thin  for  comfort.  There- 
fore, their  units  were  drawn  in  somewhat 
at  the  flanks,  to  deepen  the  defense  line, 
and  the  Pennsylvania  companies  were  used 
to  fill  the  gaps  thus  created. 

French  staff  officers  accompanied  the 
four  companies  to  the  line  and  disposed 
them  in  the  pockets  left  for  them,  in  such  a 
way  that  there  were  alternately  along  that 
part  of  the  front  a  French  regiment  and 
then  an  American  company.  The  dis- 
position of  the  troops  was  completed  well 
before  midnight.  The  companies  left  be- 
hind had  watched  their  fellows  depart  on 
this  night  adventure  with  longing,  envious 
eyes,  and  little  groups  sat  up  late  discussing 
the  luck  that  fell  to  some  soldiers  and  was 
withheld  from  others. 

The  men  had  had  no  sleep  at  all  the  night 
before  and  little  during  the  day,  but  no  one 
in  those  four  companies,  facing  the  Ger- 
mans at  last  after  so  many  weary  months  of 


52  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

preparation,  thought  of  sleep,  even  had  the 
artillery  fire  sweeping  in  waves  along  the 
front  or  the  exigencies  of  their  position 
permitted  it. 

Eagerly  the  men  tried  to  pierce  the 
black  cloak  of  night  for  a  first  glimpse  of 
the  Hun  lines.  Now  and  then,  as  a  star 
shell  hung  its  flare  in  the  sky,  they  caught 
glimpses  of  the  river,  and  sometimes  the 
flash  of  a  gun  from  the  farther  shore  gave 
assurance  that  the  Boche,  too,  was  awake 
and  watching. 

About  11.30  o'clock,  the  night  was  shat- 
tered by  a  ripping  roar  from  miles  of  French 
batteries  in  the  rear,  and  the  men  lay  in 
their  trenches  while  the  shells  screamed 
overhead.  It  was  by  far  the  closest  the 
Pennsylvania  men  had  been  to  intensive 
artillery  fire,  and  they  thought  it  terrible, 
having  yet  to  learn  what  artillery  really 
could  be. 

Days  afterward,  they  learned  that  pris- 
oners had  disclosed  the  intention  of  the 
Germans  to  attack  that  night  and  that  the 
French  fire  was  designed  to  break  up  enemy 
formations  and  harass  and  disconcert  their 
artillery  concentration. 

The    Grermans,    with    typical    Teutonic 


THE  LAST  HUN  DRIVE        53 

adherence  to  system,  paid  little  attention 
to  the  French  fire  until  the  hour  fixed  for 
their  bombardment.  Midnight  came  and 
went,  with  the  French  cannon  still  bellow- 
ing. Wearied  men  on  watch  were  relieved 
by  comrades  and  dropped  down  to  rest. 

At  12.30  o'clock,  the  German  line  belched 
forth  the  preliminary  salvo  of  what  the 
French  afterward  described  as  the  most  ter- 
rific bombardment  of  the  war  up  to  that  time. 
The  last  German  offensive  had  opened. 

The  gates  to  glory  and  to  death  swung 
wide  for  many  a  Pennsylvania  lad  that 
night. 

That  the  French  did  not  exaggerate  in 
their  characterization  of  the  bombardment 
was  shown  in  documents  taken  later  on 
captured  prisoners.  Among  these  was  a 
general  order  to  the  German  troops  assuring 
them  of  victory,  telling  them  that  this  was 
the  great  "friedensturm,"  or  peace  offensive, 
which  was  to  force  the  Allies  to  make 
peace,  and  that,  when  the  time  came  to 
advance,  they  would  find  themselves  imop- 
posed.  The  reason  for  this,  said  the  order, 
was  that  the  attack  was  to  be  preceded  by 
an  artillery  preparation  that  would  destroy 
completely  all  troops  for  twenty  miles  in 


54  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

front  of  the  German  lines.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  shells  fell  twenty-five  miles  back  of 
the  Allied  lines. 

For  mile  on  mile  along  that  bristling 
line,  the  big  guns  gave  tongue,  not  in  gusts 
or  intermittently,  as  had  been  the  case  for 
days,  but  continuously.  Only  later  did 
the  men  in  the  trenches  learn  that  the 
attack  covered  a  front  of  about  sixty-five 
miles,  the  most  pretentious  the  Huns  had 
launched.  Karl  Rosner,  the  Kaiser's  fav- 
orite war  correspondent,  wrote  to  the 
BerUn  Lokal  Anzeiger: 

"The  Emperor  listened  to  the  terrible 
orchestra  of  our  surprise  fire  attack  and 
looked  on  the  unparalleled  picture  of  the 
projectiles  raging  toward  the  enemy's  posi- 
tions." 

Pennsylvania's  doughboys  and  engineers 
shared  with  the  then  Prussian  War  Lord 
the  privilege  of  Hstening  to  the  "surprise 
fire  attack,"  but  to  them  it  was  like  no 
orchestra  mortal  ear  had  ever  heard.  Most 
of  those  who  wrote  home  afterward  used  a 
much  shorter  word  of  only  four  letters  to 
describe  the  event.  There  was,  indeed,  a 
strange  unanimity  about  the  expression: 
"It  seemed  as  if  all  —  had  broken  loose!" 


THE  LAST  HUN   DRIVE        55 

Crouching  in  their  trenches,  powerless 
to  do  anything  for  themselves  or  each 
other,  they  endured  as  best  they  could 
that  tremendous  ordeal.  The  very  air 
seemed  shattered  to  bits.  No  longer  was 
it  "the  rumbling  thunder  of  the  guns," 
to  which  they  had  been  giving  ear  for 
weeks.  Crashing,  ear-splitting  explosions 
came  so  fast  they  were  blended  into  one 
vast  dissonance  that  set  the  nerves  to 
jangling  and  in  more  than  one  instance 
upset  completely  the  mental  poise  of  our 
soldiers,  so  that  they  had  to  be  restrained 
forcibly  by  their  comrades  from  rushing  out 
into  the  open  in  their  temporary  madness. 

Paris,  fifty  miles  away  "as  the  crow 
flies."  was  awakened  from  its  slumber 
after  its  holiday  celebration  by  the  sound 
of  that  Titanic  cannonade  and  saw  the 
flashes,  and  pictures  were  jarred  from 
the  walls  by  the  trembling  of  the  earth. 

The  regiments  back  in  the  support  hne 
were  little,  if  any,  better  off  than  the  four 
companies  of  Pennsylvanians  up  in  the 
front  line,  for  the  Hun  shells  raked  the 
back  areas  as  well  as  tearing  through  the 
front  lines.  Men  clenched  their  hands  to 
steady   shaking  nerves   against  the   sheer 


56  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

physical  pressure  of  that  awful  noise,  but 
oflficers,  both  French  and  their  own,  mak- 
ing their  way  along  the  lines  in  imminent 
peril  to  encourage  the  men,  found  them 
grimly  and  amazingly  determined  and 
courageous. 

As  usual  with  the  Boche,  he  had  a  sched- 
ule for  everything,  but  it  went  wrong  at 
the  very  start  this  time.  The  schedule,  aiS 
revealed  later  in  captured  papers,  called 
for  the  swinging  of  prepared  pontoon  bridges 
across  the  Marne  -at  1.30  o'clock,  after  one 
sohd  hour  of  artillery  preparation,  and  the 
advance  guards  were  to  be  in  Montmirail, 
thirteen  miles  to  the  south,  at  8.30  o'clock 
that  morning. 

As  showing  the  dependence  placed  by 
the  Germans  on  their  own  ability  to  follow 
such  a  schedule,  it  may  be  permissible  here 
to  recall  that  during  the  fighting  an  auto- 
mobile bearing  the  black  and  white  cross 
of  the  Germans  was  driven  into  a  village 
held  by  Americans.  It  was  immediately 
surrounded  and  a  German  major,  leaning 
out  cried,  irascibly: 

**You  are  not  Germans!" 

**That's  very  true,"  replied  an  American 
lieutenanL 


THE  LAST  HUN  DRIVE        57 

"But  our  schedule  called  for  our  troops 
to  be  here  at  this  time,"  continued  the 
perplexed  German. 

"They  missed  connections;  that's  all. 
Get  out  and  walk  back.  You  are  a  pris- 
oner," snapped  the  American. 

The  anticipatory  artillery  fire  of  the 
French  had  so  harassed  the  Germans  in 
their  final  preparations  that  it  was  not 
until  two  hours  after  their  schedule  time, 
or  3.30  o'clock  in  the  morning,  that  the 
pontoons  were  swung  across  the  river  and 
the  infantry  advance  began. 

The  Prussian  Guards  led.  The  bridges 
swarmed  with  them.  The  French  and 
Americans  loaded  and  fired,  loaded  and 
fired  until  rifle  barrels  grew  hot  and  arms 
tired.  Gaps  were  torn  in  the  oncoming 
hordes,  only  to  be  filled  instantly  as  the 
Germans  pushed  forward  from  the  rear. 
The  execution  done  among  the  enemy 
when  they  were  concentrated  in  solid 
masses  on  the  bridges  was  terrific,  and  for 
days  afterward  the  stream,  about  100  feet 
wide  in  that  section,  was  almost  choked 
with  the  bodies  of  Germans. 

The  moment  the  enemy  appeared,  the 
excitement  and  nerve-strain  of  our  Penn- 


58  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

sylvania  soldiers  dropped  from  them  like  a 
robe  from  a  boxer  in  the  ring.  Their 
French  comrades  said  afterward  they  were 
amazed  and  deeply  proud  of  the  steadiness 
and  calmness  of  these  new  allies.  Their 
officers,  even  in  the  inferno  of  battle, 
thrilled  with  pride  at  the  way  their  men 
met  the  baptism  of  fire. 

All  the  new  troops  going  to  France  have 
been  "blooded"  gradually  in  minor  engage- 
ments and  have  been  frequently  in  con- 
tact with  the  enemy  before  being  launched 
into  a  major  operation.  Virtually  the 
only  exception  to  this  was  the  case  of 
the  seven  divisions  of  the  British  regular 
army  that  landed  in  France  and  were 
rushed  at  once  into  the  maelstrom  of  the 
first  German  onslaught  in  1914,  retreating 
day  by  day  and  being  slaughtered  and  cut 
to  pieces  constantly,  until  they  were  almost 
wiped  out. 

It  was  the  intention  that  the  Pennsyl- 
vania troops  should  be  carried  by  slow  and 
easy  stages  into  actual  battle,  too,  but  a 
change  in  the  Boche  plans  decreed  other- 
wise. Thus,  Pennsylvania  regiments,  with 
the  engineers  fighting  as  infantry,  found 
themselves  hurled  immediately  into  front 


THE  LAST  HUN  DRIVE        59 

line  fighting  in  one  of  the  most  ambitious 
German  operations  of  the  war. 

The  maximum  German  effort  of  the  July 
thrust  was  made  directly  along  their  front. 
It  seemed  almost  as  if  the  enemy  knew  he 
faced  many  new  troops  at  this  point  and 
counted  on  ^hat  to  enable  him  to  make  a 
break-through. 

But  Pennsylvania  held.  The  great  of- 
fensive came  to  smash. 

Official  reports  compiled  from  informa- 
tion gathered  from  prisoners  and  made 
public  afterward  showed  that  the  enemy 
engaged  fourteen  divisions — approximately 
170,000  men — in  the  first  line  in  this  part 
of  the  battle-field.  Behind  these,  in  sup- 
port, were  probably  fourteen  additional 
divisions,  some  of  which,  owing  to  the 
losses  inflicted  on  those  in  the  front  line, 
were  compelled  to  take  part  in  the  fighting. 
No  figures  are  available  as  to  the  number  of 
French,  but  their  lines  were  so  thin  that 
Americans  had  to  be  thrust  in  to  stop  gaps, 
and  there  were  fewer  than  15,000  men  in 
the  Pennsylvania  regiments. 


CHAPTER  IV 
**KiLL  OR  Be  Killed'* 

NOTHING  human  could  halt  those 
gray -green  waves  in  the  first  im- 
petus of  the  German  assault  across 
the  Mame.  They  gained  the  bridgeheads, 
and  were  enabled  to  seek  cover  and  spread 
out  along  the  river  banks.  The  grim  gray 
line,  like  an  enormous,  unclean  caterpillar, 
crept  steadily  across  the  stream.  When 
enough  men  had  gained  the  southern  bank, 
the  assault  was  carried  to  the  Franco- 
American  lines. 

Machine  guns  in  countless  numbers  spat 
venomously  from  both  sides.  Rifle-fire 
and  rifle-grenade  and  hand-grenade  explo- 
sions rolled  together  in  one  tremendous 
cacophony.  The  appalling  diapason  of  the 
big  guns  thundered  unceasingly. 

Up  the  wooded  slope  swept  the  Hun 
waves.  The  furious  fire  of  the  defenders, 
whatever  it  meant  to  individuals,  made  no 
appreciable  impress  on  the  masses.  They 
swept  to  and  over  the  first  line. 

(60) 


"KILL  OR  BE  KILLED"        61 

Then,  indeed,  did  the  Pennsylvanians 
rise  to  heroic  heights.  Gone  was  most  of 
the  science  and  skill  of  warfare  so  pains- 
takingly inculcated  in  the  men  through 
months  of  training.  Truly,  it  was  "kill 
or  be  killed."  Hand-to-hand,  often  breast- 
to-breast,  the  contending  forces  struggled. 
Men  were  locked  in  deadly  embrace,  from 
which  the  only  escape  was  death  for  one  or 
both. 

One  ^ad,  his  rifle  knocked  from  his  hands, 
plunged  at  an  antagonist  with  blazing  eyes 
and  clenched  fists  in  the  manner  of  fighting 
most  familiar  to  American  boys.  They 
were  in  a  little  eddy  of  the  terrible  melee. 
The  American  landed  a  terrific  "punch" 
on  the  point  of  his  opponent's  chin,  just 
as  a  bullet  from  the  rear  struck  home  in  his 
back.  The  rifle,  falling  from  the  hands  of 
the  German,  struck  the  outflung  arms  of 
the  Pennsylvanian.  He  seized  it,  even  as 
he  fell,  plunged  the  bayonet  through  the 
breast  of  his  enemy,  and,  the  lesson  of  the 
training  camps  coming  to  the  fore  in  his 
supreme  moment,  he  gurgled  out  the  fero- 
cious "yah!"  which  he  had  been  taught  to 
utter  with  each  bayonet  thrust. 

The  companies  were  split  up  into  little 


62  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

groups.  Back-to-back,  they  fired,  thrust, 
hewed  and  hacked  at  the  swarming  enemy. 
No  group  knew  how  the  others  were  doing. 
Many  said  afterwards  they  believed  it  was 
the  end  of  all  things  for  them,  but  they 
were  resolved  to  die  fighting  and  to  take 
as  many  Huns  with  them  as  possible. 

Then  came  the  great  tragedy  for  those 
gallant  companies.  Something  went  wrong 
with  the  liaison  service.  It  was  such  a 
thing  as  is  always  likely  to  happen  where 
two  forces  of  men,  speaking  different  lan- 
guages, are  working  in  co-operation. 

An  officer  suddenly  woke  to  the  fact 
that  there  were  no  French  troops  on  the 
flanks  of  his  command.  The  same  realiza- 
tion was  forced  home  to  each  of  the  four 
companies.  The  now  famous  "yielding 
defense"  of  the  French  had  operated  and 
their  forces  had  fallen  back  in  the  face  of 
the  impetuous  German  onslaught.  Four 
companies  of  Pennsylvanians  alone  faced 
the  army  of  the  German  Crown  Prince. 

In  the  midst  of  that  Gehenna  of  fighting, 
no  man  has  clearly  fixed  in  his  mind  just 
what  happened  to  cause  the  separation  of 
the  line.  Certainly  the  French  must  have 
sent  word   that   they   were   about  to  fall 


"KILL  OR  BE  KILLED"        63 

back.  Certainly  the  companies,  as  such, 
never  received  it.  Possibly  the  runners 
conveying  the  orders  never  got  through. 
Maybe  the  message  was  delivered  to  an 
officer  who  was  killed  before  he  could 
pass  it  on. 

Whatever  the  reason,  the  French  fell 
back,  and  there  were  left  in  that  fore- 
field  of  heroic  endeavor  only  little  milling, 
twisting  groups,  at  intervals  of  several 
thousand  feet,  where  our  valiant  Pennsyl- 
vania lads  fought  on  still  for  very  dear  life. 

The  Boche  hordes  swept  onward,  pressing 
the  French.  The  Americans  v/ere  sur- 
rounded. Captain  Cousart  and  a  handful 
of  his  men  were  severed  completely  from 
the  rest  and  taken  prisoners.  Lieutenant 
WiUiam  R.  Dyer,  of  Carney's  Point,  N.  J., 
and  Lieutenant  Bateman,  of  Wayne,  Pa.,  at 
the  other  flank  of  Company  L,  and  almost 
half  a  platoon  met  a  similar  fate.  Lieu- 
tenant Maurice  J.  McGuire  was  wounded. 

Lieutenant  James  R.  Schoch,  of  Phila- 
delphia, was  next  in  command  of  Com- 
pany L.  Not  far  from  him.  Sergeant 
Frank  Benjamin,  also  of  Philadelphia,  was 
still  on  his  feet  and  pumping  his  rifle  at 
top  speed.     From  forty  to  fifty  men  of  the 


64  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

company  were  within  reach.  The  lieu- 
tenant and  the  sergeant  managed  to  con- 
soHdate  them  and  pass  the  word  to  fall 
back,  fighting. 

Part  of  the  time  they  formed  something 
like  a  circle,  fighting  outward  in  every 
direction,  but  always  edging  back  to  where 
they  knew  the  support  lines  were.  They 
literally  fought  their  way  through  that 
part  of  the  Prussian  army  that  had  gotten 
between  them  and  the  regimental  lines. 

At  times  they  fought  from  tree  to  tree, 
exactly  as  they  had  read  of  Indians  doing. 
When  they  were  pressed  so  closely  that 
they  had  to  have  more  room,  they  used 
their  bayonets,  and  every  time  the  Hun 
gave  way  before  the  "cold  steel." 

Here  and  there  they  met,  singly  or  in 
small  groups,  other  men  of  the  company 
who  had  become  separated.  These  joined 
the  party,  so  that  when,  after  hours  of 
this  dauntless  struggle.  Lieutenant  Schoch 
stood  in  front  of  headquarters,  saluted  and 
said:  **Sir,  I  have  brought  back  what  was 
left  of  L  Company,"  he  had  sixty-seven 
men  in  the  little  column. 

During  the  day  other  men  slipped  from 
the  shelter  of  the  woods  and  scurried  into 


"KILL  OR  BE  KILLED"        65 

the  company  lines,  but  there  were  sad 
holes  in  the  ranks  when  the  last  one  to 
appear  came  in. 

Company  M  was  having  the  same  kind 
of  trouble.  A  swirl  in  the  fighting  opened 
a  gap,  and  an  avalanche  of  Germans  plunged 
through,  leaving  Captain  Mackey  and  a 
dozen  men  utterly  separated  on  one  side. 
It  was  impossible  for  them  to  rejoin  the 
company,  so  they  did  from  their  posi- 
tion what  the  men  of  Company  L 
were  doing,  fought  their  way  through 
the  Prussian-crowded  woods  to  their  own 
lines. 

Lieutenant  William  B.  Brown,  of  Mos- 
cow, Pa.,  near  Scran  ton,  senior  officer 
remaining  with  the  bulk  of  the  company, 
became  commander,  but  his  responsibility 
was  short-lived.  He,  too,  was  surrounded 
and  made  prisoner. 

Lieutenant  Thomas  B.  W.  Fales,  of 
Philadelphia,  now  became  commander  of 
the  little  band,  as  the  only  officer  left  with 
the  main  body  of  the  company.  Lieu- 
tenants Edward  Hitzeroth,  also  of  Phila- 
delphia, and  Walter  L.  Swarts,  of  Scranton, 
had  disappeared,  prisoners  in  the  hands  of 
the     Germans,     and     Lieutenant    Martin 


66  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Wheeler,  of  Moscow,  Pa.,  also  had  been 
separated  with  a  few  men. 

There  were  thirty -five  men  in  Lieutenant 
Fales'  command.  He  rallied  and  re-formed 
them  and  they  began  tlie  backward  fight 
to  the  support  line.  They  made  it  in  the 
face  of  almost  insurmountable  odds  and, 
what  is  more,  they  arrived  with  half  a 
dozen  prisoners.  Enough  men  of  the  com- 
pany had  been  picked  up  on  the  way  to 
make  up  for  casualties  suffered  during  the 
running  fight. 

Lieutenant  Wheeler,  who  had  been  cut 
off  with  part  of  a  platoon  early  in  the 
rush,  ordered  his  men  to  lie  down  in  the 
trenches,  where  they  were  better  able  to 
stand  off  the  Germans.  He  himself  took  a 
rifle  from  the  hands  of  a  dead  man  and  a 
supply  of  ammunition  and  clambered  out 
of  the  trench.  Absolutely  alone,  he  scouted 
along  through  the  woods  until  he  found  a 
route  that  was  relatively  free  from  the 
German  advance. 

Then  he  went  back  for  his  men,  formed 
them  and  led  them  by  the  selected  route, 
fighting  as  they  went  against  such  of  the 
enemy  as  sought  to  deter  them.  All  of 
this  Lieutenant  ^lieeler  performed  while 


"KILL  OR  BE  KILLED"        67 

suffering  intense  pain  from  a  wound  of  the 
hand,  inflicted  early  in  the  engagement. 
After  reaching  the  regimental  lines,  he  had 
first-aid  treatment  for  the  wound  and  con- 
tinued in  the  battle. 

Lieutenant  W.  M.  R.  Crosman  found  a 
wounded  corporal  who  was  unable  to  walk. 
He  remained  with  the  corporal  and  they 
became  entirely  isolated  from  all  other 
Americans.  They  were  given  up  for  lost 
until  the  next  night,  when  a  message 
arrived  that  a  patrol  from  another  American 
unit  on  another  part  of  the  battle  front, 
miles  away,  had  brought  in  the  lieutenant 
and  the  corporal,  both  utterly  exhausted 
and  almost  unbalanced  from  their  expe- 
rience. 

The  lieutenant  had  dressed  the  corporal's 
wound  roughly  and  then  had  started  to 
lead  him  in.  They  became  lost  and  wan- 
dered about  for  hours.  At  times  the 
lieutenant  carried  the  corporal  on  his  back, 
when  the  wounded  man  became  unable  to 
walk.  Again  they  were  forced  to  take 
shelter  in  a  thicket,  when  parties  of  Ger- 
mans approached,  and  to  lie,  in  imminent 
fear  of  death,  until  the  enemy  groups  had 
passed    on.      Finally    they    heard    voices 


US  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

speaking  in  English  and  came  on  the 
American  patrol. 

A  message  came  back  to  the  regimental 
lines  from  the  beleaguered,  hard-pressed 
M  Company  for  ammunition.  Supply 
Sergeant  Charles  McFadden,  3d,  of  Phila- 
delphia, set  out  with  a  detail  to  carry  the 
ammunition  forward.  They  were  trapped 
in  a  little  hamlet  by  the  advancing  Germans. 
McFadden  sent  his  men  back  on  the  run, 
as  they  were  badly  outnumbered,  but  him- 
self remained  behind  to  destroy  the  ammuni- 
tion to  prevent  its  falling  into  the  hands  of 
the  Germans. 

He  saw  men  approaching  him  in  the 
French  uniform  and  believed  he  was  safe, 
until  they  opened  fire  on  him  with  rifles 
and  machine  guns — ^by  no  means  the  first 
instance  in  which  the  Germans  made  such 
use  of  uniforms  other  than  their  own. 
Sergeant  McFadden  saw  it  was  hopeless  to 
try  longer  to  blow  up  his  ammunition  and 
fled.  He  ran  into  a  machine  gun  manned 
by  three  Germans.  He  took  them  at  an 
angle  and  before  they  could  swing  the 
gun  around  to  bear  on  him,  he  was  upon 
them.  Two  shots  from  his  rifle  and  a 
swift    lunge    with    the    bayonet    and    the 


"KILL  OR  BE  KILLED"        69 

machine  gun  crew  was  out  of  the  way 
forever. 

The  Germans  were  coming  on,  however, 
and  to  reach  his  own  Hues,  McFadden  had 
to  run  almost  a  mile  up  a  steep  hill.  A 
bullet  passed  through  his  sleeve,  another 
through  his  gas  mask,  one  through  his 
canteen,  four  dented  his  steel  helmet  and 
another  shot  the  stock  off  his  rifle,  but  he 
himself  was  untouched.  He  had  taken  off 
his  outer  shirt  because  of  the  heat.  As  he 
came  up  the  hill  toward  his  own  lines,  his 
comrades,  not  recognizing  him  in  that 
wildly  running  figure,  opened  fire  on  him. 
He  dropped  to  the  ground,  ripped  off  his 
imdershirt  and  waving  it  as  a  flag  of  truce, 
made  his  panting  way  into  the  lines. 

The  two  companies  of  the  110th  were 
passing  through  almost  exactly  similar 
experiences.  Company  B  was  surrounded 
and  split.  After  a  fight  of  twenty-four 
hours,  durl;  f^  which  it  was  necessary  time 
after  time  to  charge  the  Huns  with  bayonets 
and  rally  the  group  repeatedly  to  keep  it 
from  disintegrating,  Captain  Fish,  whose 
home  is  in  New  Brighton,  with  Lieutenant 
Claude  W.  Smith,  of  New  Castle,  and 
Lieutenant  Gilmore  Hayman,  of  Berwyn, 


70  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

fought  their  way  back  with  one  hundred 
and  twenty-three  men.  They  brought  with 
them  several  prisoners,  and  carried  twenty- 
six  of  their  own  wounded. 

The  rest  of  the  company,  surrounded 
in  the  woods,  also  made  a  running  fight 
of  it,  but  was  scattered  badly  and  drifted 
back  to  the  regimental  lines  in  little  groups, 
leaving  many  comrades  behind,  dead, 
wounded  and  prisoners. 

The  same  kind  of  thing  befell  Company 
C,  of  which  a  little  more  than  half  returned. 
Captain  Truxal,  of  Meyersdale,  Pa.,  and 
Lieutenants  Wilbur  Schell  and  Samuel  S. 
Crouse  were  surrounded  by  greatly  supe- 
rior forces  and  taken  prisoner  with  a  group 
of  their  men. 

Corporal  Alvey  C.  Martz,  of  Glencoe, 
Somerset  County,  with  a  patrol  of  six 
men,  was  out  in  advance  of  the  company 
stringing  barbed  wire  right  along  the  river 
bank,  when  the  German  bombardment 
began.  They  dropped  into  shell  holes. 
At  the  point  where  they  lay,  the  wire 
remained  intact  and  the  Hun  flood  pas- 
sed around  them.  When  the  hail  of 
shells  passed  on  in  advance  of  the 
charging    German    lines,    they    arose,    to 


"KILL  OR  BE  KILLED"        71 

find  themselves  completely  cut  off  from 
their  comrades. 

**  We've  got  to  fight  boys,  so  we  might  as 
well  start  it  ourselves,"  said  Martz,  and  his 
matter-of-fact  manner  had  a  strong  steady- 
ing effect  on  his  men. 

Remember  that  it  was  the  first  time  any 
of  the  youths  had  been  face  to  face  with 
the  Germans.  It  was  the  first  time  they 
had  ever  been  called  on  to  fight  for  their 
lives.  Less  than  a  year  before  they  had 
been  quiet  civilians,  going  about  their 
peaceful  trades.  Martz  had  lived  with 
his  parents  on  a  mountain  farm  in  a  remote 
part  of  Pennsylvania,  six  miles  from  the 
nearest  railway.  Add  to  this  the  fact  that 
they  had  learned  in  their  brief  soldiering 
career  to  lean  heavily  upon  their  officers  for 
initiative,  instructions  and  advice,  and 
what  these  men  did  attains  epic  proportions. 

They  came  out  of  their  shell  holes  shoot- 
ing. No  crafty  concealment,  no  game  of 
hide  and  seek  with  the  Hun  for  them. 
Lest  their  firing  might  not  attract  enough 
attention,  they  let  out  lusty  yells.  Groups 
of  Germans  before  them,  apparently  be- 
lieving they  were  being  attacked  from  the 
flank  by  a  strong  force,  fled.     The  seven 


72  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

men  gained  the  shelter  of  the  woods.  For 
two  hours  they  worked  their  way  through 
the  forest,  fighting  desperately  when  neces- 
sary, and  hunting  anxiously  for  the  place 
where  they  knew  their  company  had  been. 
It  was  not  there. 

When,  at  last,  they  glimpsed  American 
uniforms  through  the  trees  they  thought 
they  had  come  up  with  the  company. 
But  it  was  only  Sergeant  Robert  A.  Floto, 
of  Meyersdale,  Pa.,  of  their  own  company, 
with  half  a  dozen  men. 

Corporal  Martz  relinquished  command 
of  the  party  to  Sergeant  Floto.  A  little 
farther  on  they  met  another  American,  who 
joined  the  party.  He  was  "mad  all 
through"  and  on  the  verge  of  tears  from 
anxiety  and  exasperation  at  his  own  help- 
lessness. 

"There  were  seven  of  us  cut  oflF  from  the 
company,"  he  told  them,  "and  we  ran 
slap-bang  into  all  the  Boche  in  the  world. 
I  was  several  feet  behind  the  other  guys 
and  the  Fritzes  didn't  see  me.  It  came 
so  sudden,  the  boys  didn't  have  a  chance 
to  do  anything.  When  I  took  a  peek 
through  the  trees,  about  a  million  Germans 
were  around,  and  my  gang  was  just  being 


"KILL  OR  BE  KILLED"        73 

led  back  toward  the  river  by  two  Hun 
officers.  I  figured  I  couldn't  do  anybody 
any  good  by  firing  into  that  mob,  so  I 
came  away  to  look  for  help." 

"Guess  we'd  better  see  what  we  can  do 
for  those  fellows,"  remarked  Martz  in  the 
same  cool,  almost  disinterested  manner  he 
had  used  before.  Everybody  wanted  to 
go,  but  Martz  insisted  it  was  a  job  for  only 
two  men.  As  a  companion  he  picked  John 
J.  Mullen,  of  Philadelphia.  Mullen  was 
not  a  former  Guardsman.  He  was  a 
selected  man,  sent  from  Camp  Meade  sev- 
eral months  before  with  a  draft  to  fill  the 
ranks  of  the  Twenty-eighth  Division.  But 
he  had  proved  himself  in  many  a  training 
camp  to  be,  as  his  comrades  put  it,  "a 
regular  fellow." 

So  Corporal  Martz  and  Mullen,  sur- 
rounded by  a  goodly  part  of  the  Crown 
Prince's  crack  troops,  3,000  miles  from 
home,  in  a  country  they  never  had  seen 
before,  cut  loose  from  the  little  group  of 
their  comrades,  turned  their  backs  on  the 
American  lines  and  hiked  out  through  the 
woods  toward  Hunland  to  succor  their 
fellows  in  distress. 

The  little  prisoner  convoy  was  not  mak- 


74  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

ing  great  speed  and  the  two  Americans 
soon  overtook  them.  The  first  torrent  of 
the  German  advance  had  now  passed  far 
to  their  rear.  The  two  Americans  circled 
around  through  the  woods  and  lay  in 
ambush  for  the  party.  The  prisoners, 
because  of  the  narrowness  of  the  paths 
through  the  woods,  w^ere  marching  in 
single  file,  one  German  officer  in  the  lead, 
the  other  bringing  up  the  rear. 

"You  take  the  one  in  front  and  I'll 
take  that  bird  on  the  end,"  said  Martz  to 
Mullen.  Martz  was  something  of  a  sharp- 
shooter. Once  he  had  gone  to  camp  with 
the  West  Virginia  National  Guard,  just 
over  the  state  line  from  his  home,  and 
came  back  with  a  medal  as  a  marksman, 
although  he  was  only  substituting  for  a 
man  who  was  unable  to  attend  the  camp. 

They  drew  careful  bead.  Out  of  the 
comer  of  his  eye  Mullen  could  watch 
Martz,  at  the  same  time  he  sighted  on  his 
German  officer.  Martz  nodded  his  head 
and  the  two  rifles  cracked  simultaneously. 
Both  officers  dropped  dead.  The  prisoners 
looked  about  them,  stunned  with  surprise. 
Martz  and  Mullen  stepped  out  of  the 
woods.     There  was  no  time  for  thanks  or 


"KILL  OR  BE  KILLED"        75 

congratulations.  They  hurried  back  the 
way  they  had  come.  The  released  men 
had  no  trouble  arming  themselves  with 
rifles  and  ammunition  from  the  dead  lying 
in  the  woods. 

They  soon  overtook  Sergeant  Floto  and 
his  men.  The  party  was  now  of  more 
formidable  size  and  as  the  Germans  by 
this  time  were  broken  up  into  rather  small 
groups,  the  Americans  no  longer  felt  the 
necessity  of  skulking  through  the  woods, 
but  started  out  as  a  belligerent  force,  not 
hunting  fight,  but  moving  not  a  step  to 
avoid  one. 

A  few  hours  later  they  joined  another 
group  of  survivors,  under  Captain  Charles 
L.  McLain,  of  Indiana,  Pa.,  who  took 
command.  He  vetoed  the  daring  rush 
through  the  Hun-infested  woods  by  day- 
light and  ordered  that  the  party  lie  con- 
cealed during  the  day  and  proceed  to  the 
American  lines  after  nightfall. 

"We  need  a  rear  guard  to  protect  us 
against  surprise,"  said  Captain  McLain, 
and  after  what  had  gone  before  it  seemed 
but  natural  that  Corporal  Martz  and 
Private  Mullen  should  be  selected  for  the 
job  when  they  promptly  volunteered.    With 


76  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

little  further  adventure  the  party  arrived 
in  the  regimental  lines  after  about  thirty- 
six  hours  of  almost  continuous  contact 
with  the  Germans. 

In  each  regiment  the  survivors  of  this 
first  real  battle  of  the  troops  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania Division  were  formed  into  one 
company  for  the  time  being,  until  replace- 
ment drafts  arrived  to  make  up  for  the 
heavy  losses. 

This,  then,  is  the  tale  of  what  happened 
when,  as  so  many  soldier  letters  have 
related,  these  four  companies  were  "cut 
to  pieces,"  and  this  is  why  L  and  M  com- 
panies, of  the  109th,  and  B  and  C  com- 
panies, of  the  110th,  figured  so  largely  in 
the  casualties  for  a  time. 


CHAPTER  V 

The  Guard  Stands  Fast 

BACK  in  the  regimental  lines,  while 
the  four  companies  were  being 
mauled  badly  by  the  Germans,  anxi- 
ety had  gone  steadily  from  bad  to  worse. 

Enduring  the  storm  of  shells  with  which 
the  Germans  continued  to  thresh  the  back 
areas  for  miles,  the  troops  did  not  have, 
for  some  time  after  the  battle  began,  the 
excitement  of  combat  to  loosen  their  tight- 
strung  nerves. 

They  saw  the  French  come  filtering  out 
of  the  woods  before  them,  and  watched 
eagerly  for  their  comrades,  but  their  com- 
rades did  not  come  and,  as  time  passed, 
it  was  realized  the  detached  companies 
were  having  a  hard  time. 

The  vanguard  of  the  Prussians  reached 
the  edge  of  the  woods  shortly  before  day- 
break. Men  on  watch  in  the  American 
trenches  saw  hulking  gray -clad  figures  slink- 
ing among  the  trees  close  to  the  forest's 
fringe  and  opened  fire.     As  the  day  grew 

(77) 


78  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

the  firing  on  both  sides  waxed  hotter,  and 
soon  a  long  hne  of  the  enemy  advanced 
from  the  shelter  of  the  bois.  They  were 
met  by  a  concentration  of  rifle,  machine 
gun  and  cannon  fire  such  as  no  force  could 
withstand.  The  first  waves  seemed  simply 
to  wither  away  like  chaff  before  a  wind. 
The  following  ones  slackened  their  pace, 
hesitated  a  moment  or  two  then  turned 
and  ran  for  the  timber. 

From  that  moment,  our  men  were  them- 
selves again.  They  saw  the  Germans  were 
not  invincible.  They  themselves  had 
broken  up  a  Prussian  Guards'  attack.  All 
their  confidence,  self-reliance,  initiative, 
elan,  came  to  the  fore.  They  felt  them- 
selves unbeatable. 

But  one  swallow  does  not  make  a  sum- 
mer, nor  does  one  repulse  of  an  enemy  make 
a  victory.  Time  after  time  the  Germans 
returned  to  the  assault.  Groups  of  them 
gained  the  wheat  fields,  where  they  felt 
protected  from  the  fire  of  our  men.  Obvi- 
ously, they  expected  to  crawl  through  the 
wheat  until  they  were  on  the  southern 
edge  of  the  fields,  where,  lying  closely 
protected,  they  could  pick  the  Americans 
off  at  leisure. 


THE  GUARD  STANDS  FAST     79 

Whole  platoons  of  our  men  volunteered  to 
meet  this  move  and  were  permitted  to  crawl 
forward  and  enter  the  wheat.  Then  ensued  a 
game  of  hide  and  seek,  Germans  and  Ameri- 
cans stalking  each  other  as  big  game  is  stalked, 
flat  on  their  faces  in  the  growing  grain. 

But  the  Germans  were  no  match  for 
Americans  at  this  kind  of  thing.  There 
is  something — a  kind  of  heritage  from  our 
pioneer,  Indian-fighting  ancestors,  prob- 
ably— ^that  gives  to  an  American  lad  a 
natural  advantage  at  this  sort  of  fighting, 
and  scores  of  Germans  remained  behind 
in  the  shelter  of  the  wheat  when  the  tide 
of  battle  had  passed  far  away,  with  the 
spires  of  grain  nodding  and  whispering  a 
requiem  over  them. 

Before  dawn  of  that  fifteenth  of  July, 
word  was  received  from  Colonel  Mc Alex- 
ander, commanding  the  39th  Infantry  of 
the  old  regular  army,  which  was  in  front 
and  to  the  right  of  the  109th,  that  the 
Germans  had  crossed  the  river  and  pene- 
trated the  Allied  lines.  He  added  that 
if  they  gained  a  foothold  in  the  Bois  de 
Conde,  or  Conde  Wood,  a  high,  wooded 
tract  just  north  of  Monthurel,  the  position 
of  the  39th  would  be  seriously  menaced. 


80  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Captain  William  C.  Williams,  command- 
ing Company  H,  109th,  and  Captain 
Edward  J.  Meehan,  commanding  Company 
D,  of  the  same  regiment,  and  both  Philadel- 
phians,  were  ordered  into  the  wood.  The 
companies  were  led  out  and  took  positions  on 
both  sides  of  a  narrow  ravine  in  the  wood. 

Presently  the  French  began  to  appear, 
falling  back.  First  they  came  one  or  two 
at  a  time,  then  in  larger  groups.  As  they 
hurried  by  they  gave  some  indication  of 
the  heavy  fighting  they  had  gone  through 
and  which  still  was  going  forward  up 
toward  the  river. 

Captain  Williams  took  a  platoon  of  his 
company  to  establish  it  in  a  strong  posi- 
tion to  protect  the  flank  of  the  company. 
While  doing  so,  the  firing,  which  had  been 
growing  closer  all  the  time,  broke  out  right 
at  hand  and  Captain  Williams  discovered 
he  and  his  men  were  cut  off  from  the  com- 
pany. The  Captain  was  shot  in  the  hand 
at  the  first  fire  and  several  of  his  men  were 
wounded,  but  the  Captain  rallied  his  little 
party  and  they  fought  their  way  back  and 
rejoined  the  company.  Captain  Williams 
was  wounded  twice  more,  but  so  serious 
was  the  emergency  that  he  had  a  first  aid 


THE  GUARD  STANDS  FAST    81 

dressing  applied  and  continued  the  fight 
without  further  treatment. 

Both  Captain  Williams  and  Captain 
Meehan  since  have  been  promoted  to  the 
rank  of  Major  and  have  been  awarded 
Distinguished  Service  Crosses.  Major  Will- 
iams is  an  old  regular  army  man.  With  the 
rank  of  sergeant,  he  was  attached  to  the 
former  First  Pennsylvania  Infantry  as  an 
instructor  and  served  in  this  capacity 
during  the  Mexican  border  duty  in  1916. 
Later  he  was  commissioned  Captain  and 
assigned  to  command  Company  H. 

A  party  of  Huns  made  their  way  through 
the  woods  to  a  copse  on  the  flank  of  the 
first  battalion  of  the  109th,  where  they 
established  a  strong  machine  gun  nest. 
From  that  position  their  fire  was  especially 
harassing  to  the  battalion,  and  it  was 
found  necessary  to  clean  out  that  nest  if 
the  position  was  to  be  maintained. 

Accordingly  Captain  Meehan  led  Com- 
pany D  out  from  the  shelter  of  their  trench 
without  the  special  protection  of  artillery 
fire.  A  piece  of  shell  caught  Captain  Mee- 
han in  the  shoulder  and  the  impact  half 
swung  him  around,  but  he  kept  on.  Cap- 
tain Felix  R.  Campuzano,  also  of  Phila- 


82  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

delphia,  with  B  Company,  went  out  in 
support  of  Captain  Meehan's  men,  and 
Captain  Campuzano  was  struck  in  the 
hand. 

Company  D  spread  out  Hke  a  fan  and 
stalked  that  copse  as  smoothly  and  fault- 
lessly as  ever  a  black  buck  was  stalked 
in  the  heart  of  Africa  by  an  expert  hunter. 
Occasionally  a  doughboy  would  get  a 
glimpse  of  a  Boche  gunner.  There  would 
be  a  crack  from  the  thin  American  line, 
always  advancing,  and  virtually  every  shot 
meant  one  Hun  less.  There  were  few 
wasted  bullets  in  that  fight.  The  storm 
of  lead  from  the  machine  guns  was  apprecia- 
bly less  by  the  time  the  Americans  entered 
the  shelter  of  the  woods.  Once  they 
reached  the  trees,  there  was  a  wild  clamor 
of  shouts,  cries,  shots,  the  clatter  of  steel 
on  steel. 

Presently  this  died  down  and  Americans 
began  to  emerge  from  the  woods.  Not  so 
many  came  back  as  went  out,  but  of  the 
Huns  who  had  crept  forward  to  establish 
the  nest,  none  returned  to  their  own  lines. 
Our  men  brought  back  several  enemy 
machine  guns. 

Captain  Williams,  still  with  H  Company 


THE  GUARD  STANDS  FAST     83 

in  a  well-advanced  position,  was  pressed 
closely  by  Huns,  but  believed  his  position 
could  be  held  with  help.  He  despatched 
George  L.  MacElroy,  of  Philadelphia,  a 
bugler,  with  a  message  to  Colonel  Brown, 
asking  for  assistance. 

Nineteen  years  old,  and  only  recently 
graduated  from  his  status  as  one  of  the 
best  Boy  Scouts  in  his  home  city,  young 
MacElroy  trudged  into  the  open  space  be- 
fore Colonel  Brown's  quarters,  saluted  and 
stood  stiff  and  soldierly  while  he  delivered 
his  message.  He  looked  very  young  and 
boyish,  though  his  grimy  face  was  set  in 
stem,  wearied  lines  under  his  steel  helmet. 

Colonel  Brown  read  the  message  and 
started  to  give  an  order  but  checked  him- 
self as  he  noticed  the  messenger  swaying 
slightly  on  his  feet. 

"My  boy,  how  long  has  it  been  since 
you  had  food.^^"  he  asked. 

The  question,  and  particularly  the  kindly 
tone,  were  too  much  for  the  overwrought 
nerves  of  the  lad. 

"Forty-eight  hours,  sir,''  he  responded, 
and  then  his  stoicism  gave  way  and  he 
collapsed. 

"Get  something  to  eat  here  and  take  a 


84  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

sleep,"  said  the  Colonel.  "You  need  not 
go  back.'* 

"  No,  sir,  *'  was  the  reply.  "  My  company 
is  up  there  in  the  woods,  fighting  hard, 
and  I  am  going  back  to  it.  Captain  Will- 
iams depends  on  me,  sir." 

And  back  he  went,  although  he  was  per- 
suaded to  rest  a  few  minutes  while  a  lunch 
was  prepared.  He  was  asked  to  descnoe 
his  experiences  on  that  journey  through 
the  German-infested  woods,  but  the  sum 
of  his  description,  given  in  a  deprecatory 
manner,  was:  "I  just  crawled  along  and 
got  here.*' 

With  such  spirit  as  this  actuating  our 
men,  it  is  small  wonder  that  the  Germans 
found  themselves  battling  against  a  stone 
wall  of  defense  that  threatened  momen- 
tarily to  topple  forward  on  them  and  crush 
them. 

MacElroy  was  wounded  slightly  and 
sufiPered  a  severe  case  of  shell  shock  a  few 
days  later.  He  was  in  the  hospital  many 
weeks  and  was  awarded  the  French  War 
Cross  for  his  bravery. 

Bugler  MacElroy  was  by  no  means  the 
only  lad  who  did  not  eat  for  forty-eight 
hours.      Those  in   the  forward   lines  had 


THE  GUARD  STANDS  FAST    85 

entered  the  fight  with  only  two  days' 
rations.  Many  of  them  threw  this  away  to 
lighten  themselves  for  the  contest.  Subse- 
quently food  reached  them  only  inter- 
mittently and  in  small  quantities,  for  it 
was  almost  an  impossible  task  to  carry  it 
up  from  the  rear  through  that  vortex  of 
fighting. 

Sleep  they  needed  even  more  than  food. 
For  five  days  and  nights  hundreds  of  the 
men  slept  only  for  a  few  moments  at  a 
time,  not  more  than  three  hours  all  told. 
They  became  as  automatons,  fighting  on 
though  they  had  lost  much  of  the  sense 
of  feeling.  It  was  asserted  by  medical 
men  that  this  loss  of  sleep  acted  almost 
as  an  anesthetic  on  many,  so  that  wounds 
that  ordinarily  would  have  incapacitated 
them  through  sheer  pain,  were  regarded 
hardly  at  all.  When  opportunity  offered,, 
more  than  one  went  sound  asleep  on  his 
feet,  leaning  against  the  wall  of  a  trench. 

After  that  first  splendid  repulse  of  the 
German  attack,  the  Crown  Prince's  forces, 
with  typical  Teuton  stubbomess,  launched 
assault  after  assault  against  our  line.  0105- 
cers  could  be  seen  here  and  there,  mingling 
with  the  German  soldiers,  beating  them  and 


86  THE  IRON   DIVISION 

kicking  them  forward  in  the  face  of  the 
murderous  American  fire. 

It  was  during  this  almost  continuous  game 
of  attack  and  repulse  that  there  occurred  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  and  dramatic  events 
of  the  whole  period.  The  Boche  had  been 
gnawing  into  the  lines  of  the  110th,  in  the 
center  of  the  Pennsylvania  front,  until  it 
seemed  nothing  could  stop  them.  Probably 
the  most  terrific  pressure  along  that  sector 
was  exerted  against  this  point. 

For  twenty-five  hours  the  110th  had  given 
virtually  constant  battle,  and  officers  and 
men  felt  they  soon  must  give  way  and 
fall  back.  Y.  M.  C.  A.  men  serving  with 
the  Americans  had  established  themselves 
in  a  dugout  in  the  face  of  a  low  bluff  facing 
away  from  the  ejiemy,  where  they  and  their 
supplies  were  reasonably  safe  from  shell 
fire,  and  from  these  dugouts  they  issued 
forth,  with  a  courage  that  won  the  admira- 
tion of  the  fighting  men,  to  carry  chocolate, 
cigarettes  and  other  bits  of  comfort  to  the 
hard  pressed  doughboys  and  to  render 
whatever  aid  they  could.  Several  of  them 
pleaded  to  be  allowed  to  take  rifles  and  help 
withstand  the  onslaught,  but  this,  of  course 
was  forbidden. 


THE  GUARD  STANDS  FAST    87 

The  Rev.  Francis  A.  La  Violette,  of 
Seattle,  Wash.,  one  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
workers,  had  lain  down  in  the  dugout  for 
a  few  minutes'  rest  when  he  heard  a  flutter 
of  wings  about  the  entrance.  He  found  a 
tired  and  frightened  pigeon,  with  a  message 
tube  fastened  to  its  leg.  Removing  the 
carrier,  he  found  a  message  written  in 
German,  which  he  was  unable  to  read. 
He  knew  the  moment  was  a  critical  one 
for  the  whole  line.  He  knew  there  were 
grave  fears  that  the  Germans  were  about 
to  break  through  and  that  if  they  did 
there  would  be  little  to  hold  them  from 
a  dash  on  Paris. 

He  rushed  the  message  to  headquarters, 
where  it  was  translated.  It  was  a  cry  of 
desperation  from  the  Germans,  intended 
for  their  reserve  forces  in  the  rear.  It 
said  that,  unless  reinforcements  were  sent 
at  once,  the  German  line  at  that  point 
would  be  forced  to  retire.  The  pigeon  had 
become  lost  in  the  murk  of  battle  and 
delivered  the  message  to  the  wrong  side 
of  the  fighting  front. 

In  half  an  hour  word  had  gone  down 
the  line,  and  tanks,  artillery  and  thousands 
of  French  troops  were  rushing  to  the  threat- 


88  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

ened  point.  With  this  assistance  and  the 
knowledge  that  the  Germans  were  already 
wavering,  the  Pennsylvanians  advanced 
with  determination  and  hurled  the  enemy 
back.  Headquarters  was  dumfounded, 
when  prisoners  were  examined,  to  learn 
that  six  divisions  of  Prussians,  about 
75,000  men,  had  been  opposing  the 
Allied  force  and  had  been  compelled  to 
call  for  help. 

On  the  right  of  our  line  the  enemy  thrust 
forward  strong  local  attacks,  driving  our 
men  from  St.  Agnan,  and  La  Chapelle- 
Manthodon.  St.  Agnan,  three  miles  south 
of  the  nearest  spot  on  the  Marne,  was  the 
farthest  point  of  the  German  advance. 
Almost  immediately  the  109th  Infantry 
and  103d  Engineers,  in  conjunction  with 
French  Chausseurs  Alpin  (Blue  Devils), 
launched  a  counter  attack  which  drove  the 
Germans  pell  mell  out  of  the  villages  and 
started  them  on  their  long  retreat. 

Just  before  this  counter  attack  began 
the  109th  was  being  harassed  again  by  a 
machine  gun  nest,  and  this  time  Com- 
pany K  was  sent  out  to  "do  the  job."  It 
did,  in  as  workmanlike  a  manner  as  D 
Company  had  on  the  other  occasion.    Lieu- 


THE  GUARD  STANDS  FAST    89 

tenant  Walter  Fiechter,  of  Philadelphia, 
was  wounded,  as  were  several  enlisted  men. 

When  the  counter  attack  finally  was 
launched  Captain  Walter  McC.  Gearty, 
also  a  Philadelphian,  acting  as  major  of  the 
First  Battalion  of  the  109th,  led  the  advance 
of  that  regiment.  They  ran  into  a  machine 
gun  nest  that  was  spitting  bullets  like  a 
summer  rain.  The  stream  of  lead  caught 
Captain  Gearty  full  in  the  front,  and  he 
dropped,  the  first  officer  of  his  rank  in  the 
old  National  Guard  of  Pennsylvania  to 
meet  death  in  the  war. 

His  men,  frantic  at  the  loss  of  a  beloved 
officer,  plunged  forward  more  determinedly 
than  ever  and  wiped  out  that  machine  gun 
nest  to  a  man,  seized  the  guns  and  ammuni- 
tion and  turned  them  on  the  already  fleeing 
Boche. 

The  Americans  had  discovered  by  this 
time  the  complete  truth  of  what  their 
British  instructors  had  told  them — ^that 
the  Hun  hates  and  fears  the  bayonet  more 
than  any  other  weapon  of  warfare.  So 
they  wasted  few  bullets.  Rifle  fire,  they 
discovered,  was  a  mighty  thing  in  defense, 
when  a  man  has  a  chance  to  steady  himself 
and  aim  with  precision  while  the  enemy  is 


90  THE  IRON   DIVISION 

doing  the  advancing.  But  when  conditions 
are  reversed,  the  best  rifleman  has  little 
chance  to  shine  in  pressing  forward  in  an 
attack,  so  it  was  the  bayonet  that  was  used 
this  time. 

The  men  had  gone  "over  the  top"  with- 
out a  barrage,  but  they  had  the  best  pro- 
tection in  the  world — self-confidence,  which 
the  Hun  had  not.  The  Prussians  had  had 
a  taste  of  American  fighting  such  as  they 
had  thought  never  to  experience,  and  for 
thousands  of  them  the  mere  sight  of  that 
advancing  line  of  grim,  set  faces,  preceded 
by  bristling  bayonet  points,  was  enough. 
They  did  not  wait  to  be  "tickled"  with  the 
point. 

Others,  however,  stood  their  ground 
boldly  enough  and  gave  battle.  As  had 
been  the  case  for  several  months,  they 
depended  little  on  the  individual  rifleman, 
but  put  virtually  their  whole  trust  in 
machine  guns  and  artillery.  With  their 
ranks  shorn  of  their  old-time  confidence  and 
many  of  their  men  fleeing  in  panic  rather 
than  come  to  grips  with  the  Americans  and 
French,  there  was  little  chance  to  stem  that 
charge,  however,  and  the  enemy  fell  back 
steadily,  even  rapidly,  to  the  Marne. 


CHAPTER  VI 

BocHE  IN  FuLi.  Flight 

IT  was  in  following  up  the  German 
retreat  from  their  "farthest  south" 
back  to  the  Marne,  that  our  men 
learned  the  truth  of  what  they  had  heard 
and  read  so  often,  that  the  German  is  as 
good  a  fighter  as  any  in  the  world  when 
he  is  in  masses,  but  degenerates  into  a 
sickening  coward  when  left  alone  or  in 
small  groups. 

It  was  during  this  time,  too,  that  they 
learned  the  truth  of  the  oft-repeated  charge 
that  Germans  were  left  behind,  chained 
to  machine  guns  so  they  could  not  escape, 
to  hinder  an  advancing  enemy  and  make 
his  losses  as  heavy  as  possible. 

Repeatedly  groups  of  our  men  advanced 
on  machine  gun  nests  in  the  face  of  vicious 
fire  until  they  were  in  a  position  to  make 
a  sudden  rush  and,  on  reaching  the  guns, 
were  greeted  by  uplifted  hands  and  bleats 
of  ' '  Americans,  kamerads !  kamerads ! ' ' 

On  the  nature  of  the  individual  Ameri- 

(91) 


92  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

cans  depended  what  happened.  Some- 
times the  Germans  were  released  from 
their  chains  and  sent  to  the  rear  as  pris- 
oners. Sometimes  the  bayonet  was  used 
as  the  only  answer  to  such  tactics.  And 
who  shall  blame  either  action? 

When,  as  frequently  happened,  it  was 
a  case  of  man  to  man,  the  Pennsylvanians 
found  that  it  was  a  rare  German  who 
would  stand  up  and  fight.  Long  after- 
ward they  told  gleefully  of  finding,  here 
and  there,  a  Hun  who  bravely  gave  battle, 
for  our  men  frankly  preferred  to  kill  their 
men  fighting  rather  than  to  slaughter  them 
or  take  them  prisoner. 

Some  of  the  Americans  were  so  eager  to 
keep  close  on  the  heels  of  the  retreating 
Huns  that  they  did  not  stop  long  enough 
thoroughly  to  clean  up  machine  gun  nests 
and  other  strong  points.  Groups  of  the 
Boche  hid  until  the  main  body  of  the 
Americans  had  passed  on,  then  raked 
them  from  the  rear  with  machine  gun 
and  rifle  fire,  snipers  concealed  in  trees 
being  particularly  annoying  in  this  way. 

In  scores  of  instances  our  men  found 
machine  guns  and  their  gunners  both  tied 
fast  in   trees,   so   that  neither  could  fall> 


BOCHE  IN  FULL  FLIGHT       93 

even  when  the  operator  was  shot.  It  was 
reported  reliably  but  unofficially  that  ma- 
chine gun  nests  had  been  found  where 
the  Germans,  in  the  short  time  they  had 
been  on  the  ground,  had  arranged  aerial 
tramways  of  rope  from  tree  to  tree,  so 
that  if  a  machine  gun  nest  were  discovered 
in  one  tree  and  the  gunners  shot,  the  guns 
could  be  slid  over  to  another  tree  on  the 
ropes  and  another  group  of  men  could  set 
them  going  again. 

Many  of  the  Huns  "played  dead"  until 
the  American  rush  was  past,  then  opened 
fire  on  the  rear.  This  is  an  old  trick,  but 
Allied  soldiers  who  tried  it  early  in  the  war 
discovered  that  the  Germans  countered  it 
by  having  men  come  along  after  a  charging 
body  of  troops,  bayoneting  everybody  on 
the  field  to  make  sure  all  were  dead.  The 
Germans,  however,  knew  they  were  safe 
in  trying  it  with  our  men,  for  they  were 
well  aware  Americans  did  not  bayonet 
wounded  men  or  dead  bodies. 

Sergeant  McFadden,  who  has  been  men- 
tioned before,  was  making  his  way  through 
the  woods  with  a  single  companion  when 
he  noticed  an  apparently  dead  Boche  in  a 
rifle  pit.      He  got  a  glimpse  of  the  face, 


94  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

however,  and  noticed  the  eyes  were  closed 
so  tightly  the  man  was  "squinting"  from 
the  effort.  McFadden  jabbed  his  bayonet 
in  the  German's  leg,  whereupon  he  leaped 
to  his  feet  and  seized  the  rifle  from  the 
astonished  American's  hand.  He  threw  it 
up  to  fire,  but  before  he  could  pull  the 
trigger,  McFadden's  companion  shot  him. 

At  one  point,  below  Fossoy,  the  Ger- 
mans not  only  went  back  to  the  river,  but 
actually  crossed  it  in  the  face  of  the  110th 
Infantry's  advance.  Reaching  the  banks 
of  the  river,  however,  the  enemy  was 
within  the  protection  of  his  big  guns, 
which  immediately  laid  down  such  fire 
that  it  was  utterly  impossible  for  the 
Americans  and  French  to  remain.  Hav- 
ing had  a  real  taste  of  triumph,  the  Pennsyl- 
vanians  were  loath  to  let  go,  but  fell  back 
slowly,  unpressed  by  the  Germans,  to  their 
former  positions. 

It  was  on  this  forward  surge  back  to  the 
Marne  that  Pennsylvania's  soldiers  began 
to  get  real  first-hand  evidence  of  Hun 
methods  of  fighting — ^the  kind  of  thing 
that  turned  three-fourths  of  the  world 
into  active  enemies  of  them  and  their 
ways,  and  sickened  the  very  souls  of  all 


BOCHE   IN  FULL  FLIGHT       95 

who  learned  what  creatures  in  the  image 
of  man  can  do. 

They  came  on  machine  gun  nests,  in 
the  advance  between  Mezy,  MouKns  and 
Courtemont-Varennes,  to  find  their  com- 
rades who  had  been  taken  prisoner  in  the 
earher  fighting  tied  out  in  front  in  such 
a  way  as  to  fall  first  victims  to  their  friends' 
fire  should  an  attack  be  made  on  the 
gunners.  Men  told,  with  tears  rolling 
down  their  cheeks,  how  these  brave  lads, 
seeing  the  advancing  Americans,  shouted 
to  them: 

"  Shoot !     Shoot !     Don't  stop  for  us !" 

They  saw  eight  airplanes,  painted  with 
the  French  colors,  swoop  over  the  lines, 
soar  low  near  a  barn  where  a  battery  had 
been  planted  and  drop  tons  of  bombs, 
shaking  the  earth  and  demolishing  every- 
thing about  as  if  an  earthquake  had  oc- 
curred. Fortunately  in  this  instance,  the 
battery  had  been  moved  to  another  loca- 
tion, but  the  same  planes  poured  streams 
of  machine  gun  bullets  into  the  ranks  of 
our  men  until  driven  off  by  machine  gun 
and  anti-aircraft  fire. 

Not  the  least  of  the  difficulties  of  our 
men  was  the  fact  that  the  Germans  mingled 


96  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

a  certain  quantity  of  gas  shells  with  their 
high  explosives  and  shrapnel.  Ordinarily^ 
soldiers  learn  to  distinguish  gas  shells  from 
others  by  the  difference  in  the  sound  of 
the  explosion,  but  in  such  a  bombardment 
as  this  the  sounds  are  so  commingled  that 
even  that  protection  is  denied. 

Therefore,  it  was  necessary  for  the  men 
to  wear  their  gas  masks  almost  continu- 
ously. While  these  are  a  protection  against 
the  poisonous  fumes,  they  are  far  from 
being  pleasant.  Not  only  is  it  more 
difficult  to  see  and  breathe,  but  what 
air  is  inhaled  is  impregnated  with  chem- 
icals used  to  neutralize  the  gas.  Yet  for 
hours  at  a  time,  the  men  had  to  go  through 
the  inferno  of  fighting  under  the  handicap 
of  the  masks. 

Men  returned  to  the  rear  with  great 
burns  upon  their  faces,  hands  and  bodies. 
From  some  the  clothes  were  burned  away 
almost  entirely,  and  others  reeled  along 
like  drunken  men,  nearly  blinded.  They 
reported  that  they  had  seen  Germans  in 
the  woods  with  what  looked  like  large 
tanks  on  their  backs.  As  the  Americans 
approached  to  give  battle,  these  Huns 
turned  short  nozzles  toward  the  oncoming 


BOCHE  IN  FULL  FLIGHT       97 

soldiers,  and  from  the  nozzles  leaped  great 
streams  of  flame,  extending  as  much  as 
thirty  feet. 

A  part  of  the  111th  Infantry  confronted, 
at  one  time,  a  small  wood,  which  the 
French  believed  masked  a  strong  machine 
gun  nest.  A  patrol  was  organized  to  re- 
connoiter  the  position,  composed  partly  of 
volunteers  and  partly  of  men  chosen  by 
oflScers.  One  of  the  volunteers  was  Private 
Joseph  Bennett,  of  Gulph  Mills,  Pa.,  near 
Norristown,  a  member  of  the  headquarters 
company  of  the  111th.  The  party  con- 
sisted of  twelve  enlisted  men  under  com- 
mand of  a  French  lieutenant. 

They  advanced  with  the  greatest  care, 
their  line  extended  to  more  than  the  normal 
skirmish  distance.  There  was  not  a  sign 
of  life  about  the  wood.  Coming  closer, 
they  saw  the  body  of  an  American  soldier 
propped  against  a  tree.  The  French  oflficer 
signaled  for  the  men  to  close  in  toward 
this  point.  As  they  did  so,  four  machine 
guns,  concealed  by  the  Hun  ghouls  behind 
the  American  body,  raked  the  thin  line  of 
approaching  men  with  a  terrific  fire.  Every 
man  in  the  party  except  Bennett  was  killed 
instantly.      Bennett    fired    one    shot    and 


98  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

saw  one  of  the  Boche  plunge  forward  from 
his  hiding  place  and  lie  still.  Then  a 
stream  of  machine  gun  bullets  struck  his 
rifle  and  destroyed  it. 

Bennett  flung  himself  to  the  ground  and 
dragged  himself  to  the  body  of  the  French 
lieutenant.  He  took  a  supply  of  smoke 
bombs  with  which  the  lieutenant  had  in- 
tended to  signal  the  result  of  his  expedi- 
tion. Setting  these  in  operation,  Bennett 
heaved  them  over  in  front  of  the  machine 
gun  position.  They  promptly  threw  up 
such  a  dense  cloud  that  the  Gulph  Mills 
man  was  able  to  stand  up.  Under  cover 
of  the  smoke  he  advanced  and  threw  hand 
grenades  into  the  position,  killing  the 
remaining  three  Germans.  Then  he  re- 
turned to  his  regiment,  the  sole  survivor 
of  the  scouting  party  of  thirteen  men. 
The  Distinguished  Service  Cross  was 
awarded  to  him  for  that  act. 

Bennett  had  another  remarkable  experi- 
ence. He  is  one  of  the  biggest  men  in  his 
regiment,  standing  a  little  more  than  six 
feet,  and  weighing  about  200  pounds. 
He  was  with  Private  Joseph  Wolf,  of 
Pottstown,  in  the  advance  when  they  saw 
a  sniper  in  a  tree  just  drawing  a  bead  on 


BOCHE  IN  FULL  FLIGHT       99 

an  American  lieutenant.  Bennett  was 
almost  directly  under  the  tree,  and  coolly 
picked  off  the  sniper.  In  falling,  the  body 
dislodged  a  second  badly  frightened  Ger- 
man. Bennett,  watching  the  grim  little 
tableau,  had  not  lowered  his  gun,  and  the 
live  German  fell  directly  on  his  gun,  impal- 
ing himself  on  the  bayonet.  The  force  of 
the  blow  almost  dropped  the  big  American. 

The  men  of  the  111th  were  no  whit 
behind  their  comrades  of  the  other  regi- 
ments in  the  intensity  of  their  fighting 
spirit  nor  in  their  accomplishments.  In- 
dividuals performed  the  same  kind  of 
heroic  feats,  whatever  regiment  they  called 
their  own.  In  other  words,  all  were  true 
Americans. 

Corporal  William  Loveland,  of  Chester, 
with  Company  B,  111th,  single-handed, 
captured  seventeen  of  the  enemy,  and  was 
decorated  for  his  bravery.  He  was  so 
badly  wounded  in  the  last  campaign  of  the 
war  that  he  died  November  5th. 

It  was  a  little  later,  after  they  had 
driven  the  Germans  back  to  the  Marne 
and  had  retired  again  to  their  original 
positions,  that  there  came  to  the  Pennsyl- 
vanians  a  highly  pleasing  estimate  of  their 


100         TIIE  IRON  DIVISION 

prowess  as  viewed  by  the  British.  A 
runner  from  division  headquarters  brought 
up  a  copy  of  a  great  London  daily  newspaper 
in  which  appeared  the  following  comment: 

"The  feature  of  the  battle  on  which  the 
eyes  of  all  the  world  are  fixed,  and  those 
of  the  enemy  with  particular  intentness, 
is  the  conduct  of  the  American  troops. 
The  magnificent  counter-attack  in  which 
the  Americans  flung  back  the  Germans  on 
the  Marne  after  they  had  crossed  was 
much  more  than  the  outstanding  event 
of  the  fighting.  It  was  one  of  the  histor- 
ical incidents  of  the  whole  war  in  its  moral 
significance." 

One  other  bit  of  cheering  news  came  to 
them,  passing  down  through  the  various 
ranks  from  headquarters.  It  told  some- 
thing of  what  the  intelligence  officers  had 
gleaned  from  the  study  of  documents  taken 
from  enemy  prisoners  and  dead.  One  of 
these  latter  had  been  an  intelligence  officer. 
He  was  killed  after  writing  a  report  on  the 
quality  of  the  American  troops  and  before 
he  had  a  chance  to  send  it  along  on  its 
way  to  German  great  headquarters.  Our 
men  learned  that  in  this  report  he  had 
written    that    their    morale    was    not    yet 


BOCHE  IN  FFiX  FIIGTCT     101 

broken,  that  they  were  young  and  vigorous 
soldiers  and  nearly,  if  not  quite,  of  the 
caliber  of  shock  troops,  needing  only  more 
experience  to  make  them  so. 

With  his  troops  back  at  the  Mame  and 
balked  from  moving  southward,  the  enemy 
now  tried  to  move  eastward  along  the 
banks  of  the  river  toward  Epernay.  The 
checking  of  this  move  fell  to  other  troops, 
chiefly  French,  while  our  men  lay  in  their 
trenches,  the  victims  of  a  continuous,  vin- 
dictive bombardment,  without  apparent 
purpose  other  than  the  breaking  of  that 
morale  of  which  the  dead  intelligence 
officer  had  written. 

The  men  did  not  know  what  had  hap- 
pened. They  knew  only  they  wanted 
either  to  get  away  from  that  sullen  bom- 
bardment or  get  out  and  do  something. 
They  were  not  aware  that  Foch  had 
unleashed  his  armies  between  ChMeau- 
Thierry  and  Soissons  and  that  the  enemy 
already  was  in  flight  from  the  Mame, 
the  bombardment  being  designed  to  keep 
those  terrible  Americans  in  their  trenches 
until  the  last  Huns  had  recrossed  the 
river  to  begin  the  long  retreat  northward. 

Until  July  21st,  the  Pennsylvania  regi- 


102         THE  :mO:\    DIVISION 

ments  hugged  their  trenches,  nursed  their 
minor  hurts  and  their  deadly  fatigue,  and 
wondered  what  was  going  on  out  yonder 
where  the  fate  of  Paris  and  possibly  of  the 
war  was  being  decided.  The  roar  of 
artillery  had  gradually  died  down  and  the 
men  realized  that  the  front  was  moving 
away  from  them.  This  could  mean  only 
one  thing — sl  German  retreat:  and  our 
soldiers  were  gladdened,  despite  the  sad 
gaps  in  their  ranks,  with  the  knowledge 
that  they  had  played  the  parts  of  real 
men  and  splendid  soldiers  in  making  that 
retreat  compulsory. 

Uppermost  in  the  mind  of  more  than 
one  old  national  guardsman,  as  evidenced 
by  scores  of  letters  received  since  that 
time,  was  the  thought  that  the  despised 
"tin  soldiers"  of  other  days  had  "come 
through"  with  flying  colors,  and  had  put 
their  fine  old  organization  well  beyond  the 
touch  of  the  finger  of  scorn. 

So,  on  July  21st,  the  regiments  were 
ordered  back  out  of  the  ruck  of  battle  and 
away  from  the  scene  of  their  hard  six  days 
for  a  rest.  They  went  only  a  few  miles 
back,  ^but  it  was  a  blessed  relief  for  the 
men — too  much  and  too  sudden  for  some. 


BOCHE  IN  FULL  FLIGHT     103 

Men  who  had  come  through  the  battle 
apparently  unscathed,  now  collapsed  utteily 
as  their  nerves  gave  way  with  the  release 
of  the  tension,  like  the  snapping  of  a  tight- 
coiled  spring,  and  more  than  one  went 
under  the  physicians'  care  from  that  rest 
camp,  miles  away  from  German  fire. 

Not  all  were  allowed  to  rest,  however. 
Details  were  sent  to  the  scene  of  the 
recent  fighting  to  clear  up  and  salvage 
the  wreckage  of  war,  to  hunt  for  wounded 
and  to  bury  the  dead.  This  was  not  the 
least  trying  of  their  experiences  for  the 
men  engaged.  The  bodies  of  well-liked 
officers  were  dragged  out  from  tangles  of 
dead  Huns  and  buried  tenderly,  each  grave 
being  marked  by  a  little  wooden  cross  on 
which  was  placed  one  of  the  identification 
disks  taken  from  the  dead  man,  the  second 
being  turned  over  to  statistical  officers 
for  record  purposes. 

A  week  had  passed  since  the  first  engage- 
ment, and  the  burying  squads  had  no 
pleasant  task,  from  the  physical  stand- 
point, entirely  aside  from  the  sadness  and 
depression  it  entailed.  The  men  got  little 
touches  of  spiritual  uplift  from  things  they 
found   on   the   battlefield.      Such   as,   for 


104         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

instance,  the  body  of  little  Alexander 
Myers,  of  Green  Lane,  Montgomery 
County,  a  private  in  Company  M,  109th, 
who  had  been  known  in  boxing  circles 
about  Philadelphia  as  "Chick"  Myers. 
He  was  found  with  five  dead  Boche  about 
him.  And  the  body  of  Sergeant  Cobum, 
of  the  same  company,  who  had  been  mar- 
ried two  days  before  he  sailed  for  France, 
was  found  prone  on  an  automatic  rifle, 
with  the  ground  before  him  literaUy  covered 
with  dead  Huns. 

In  the  burial  detail  of  the  111th  was 
Harry  Lewis  McFarland,  of  Fallston,  Pa., 
near  New  Brighton,  a  private  in  Company 
B.  He  had  been  grieving  bitterly  over  the 
fact  that  his  brother,  Vemer,  had  been 
missing  since  the  company  was  cut  up 
so  badly  in  the  first  German  advance. 
Moving  about  among  the  dead,  he  turned 
one  over,  face  up.  It  was  his  brother. 
In  his  hands  was  his  rifle,  still  clenched 
tightly.  In  front  of  him,  in  such  position 
that  it  was  plain  he  had  done  the  execu- 
tion himself,  lay  seven  dead  Germans. 

Such  was  the  spirit  with  which  our  men 
fought  and  died,  and  such  was  the  price 
they  charged  for  their  lives. 


BOCHE  IN  FULL  FLIGHT      105 

Back  in  the  rest  camp,  the  companies 
were  mustered  and  the  rolls  checked  off 
with  tlie  known  statistics  regarding  those 
not  present.  Figures  on  the  casualties  of 
the  109th  in  those  six  days  of  action  have 
reached  this  country.  They  show  four 
officers  and  75  enlisted  men  killed;  ten 
officers  and  397  enlisted  men  wounded; 
six  officers  and  311  enlisted  men  missing, 
a  total  of  twenty  officers  and  783  men,  or 
803  casualties  for  the  regiment,  out  of 
something  more  than  3,000  men — approxi- 
mately twenty -five  per  cent  of  losses.  The 
110th  suffered  about  as  heavily,  and  the 
111th  scarcely  less.  The  103d  Engineers 
had  been  more  fortunate.  Their  hard  time 
was  yet  to  come. 

It  was  in  this  period  that  the  weather 
changed.  The  fine,  hot,  sunshiny  days 
gave  way  to  pouring  rains,  which  turned 
the  roads  into  quagmires  and  added  im- 
measurably to  the  miseries  of  the  men. 
However,  officers  commented  on  the  fact 
that  there  was  little  complaining.  Men 
who  had  grumbled  in  the  training  camps 
back  in  America  when  the  beans  were 
cold  for  lunch,  or  when  they  had  an  extra 
hour's  work  to  do,  or  when  the  wind  blew 


106         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

chill  while  they  were  "on  sentry  go," 
now  faced  actual  hardship  with  dauntless 
spirit  and  smiles.  In  some  places  the  men 
marched  through  mud  up  to  their  knees. 
At  night  they  slept  in  the  open  with  the 
rain  pouring  on  them.  When  the  hot  sun 
shone  once  more,  their  clothing  steamed. 

More  cheering  news  came  to  the  men 
while  they  rested.  The  companies  that 
had  been  in  the  front  line  with  the  French 
when  the  Germans  drove  across  the  river 
and  had  suffered  the  heaviest,  were  men- 
tioned in  special  orders  for  their  gallantry, 
and  the  report  went  down  the  line  that 
several  of  the  officers  and  men  were  to 
receive  decorations. 

With  indomitable  good  humor,  which 
served  to  cover  their  hurts  to  some  extent 
— as  many  a  small  boy  laughs  to  keep  from 
weeping — officers  and  men  made  the  most 
of  things  that  struck  a  funny  vein.  In 
this  connection,  there  was  much  "kidding" 
of  Captain  George  M.  Orf,  of  Philadelphia, 
statistical  officer  of  the  109th. 

Sunday,  July  14th,  Captain  Orf  received 
his  discharge  from  the  army  because  he 
had  been  found  to  be  suffering  from  an 
ailment  that  unfitted  him  for  military  duty. 


BOCHE  IN  FULL  FLIGHT     107 


He  wrote  a  request  at  once  for  a  re-exami- 
nation and  revocation  of  the  order  of  dis- 
charge. Pending  action  on  his  request,  he 
was,  technically  and  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  a  civilian.  Actually,  he  went 
right  on  with  his  duties,  "carried  on" 
throughout  the  German  drive  and  the 
counter-attack,  came  through  without  a 
scratch,  and  stayed  right  with  the  regiment 
through  further  hard  fighting  and  cam- 
paigning to  August  9th.  Then  he  received 
final  word,  a  rejection  of  his  appeal  and 
orders  to  proceed  home  at  once.  During 
this  period,  his  fellow  officers  declined  to 
address  him  by  his  military  title,  but  went 
out  of  their  way  to  speak  to  him  and  of 
him  as  "Mister  Orf." 


CHAPTER  VII 

Bombed  From  the  Air 

A  FTER  only  a  few  days  and  nights  of 
AA  rest,  the  regiments  were  moved  off 
^  "^  to  the  southward  a  few  miles,  then 
turned  sharply  to  the  west,  thus  passing 
around  a  district  that  still  was  being  shelled 
heavily  by  the  Germans  in  an  effort  to 
hold  the  Allied  force  back  until  they  could 
get  their  own  materials  out  of  the  ChAteau- 
Thierry  salient. 

Thus  they  came  again  to  the  Mame, 
which  turns  sharply  south  at  Chfi,teau- 
Thierry,  and  here  they  made  camp  again 
and  received  contingents  of  "casuals" — 
that  is,  men  unattached  to  any  regiments 
— ^who  had  been  sent  to  fill  up  the  depleted 
ranks.  The  shattered  companies  were 
refilled,  Companies  L  and  M,  of  the  109th, 
and  B  and  C,  of  the  110th,  becoming 
almost  new  organizations.  The  newcomers 
were  made  welcome  and  proved  to  be  good 
soldier  material,  but  few  of  them  were 
Pennsylvanians. 

(108) 


BOMBED  FROM  THE  AIR    109 

The  inarch  was  resumed  July  24th  over  a 
road  paralleling  the  railroad  line  from  Paris 
to  Chdteau-Thierry,  which  followed  the 
course  of  the  river  rather  closely,  except 
for  its  numerous  bends.  The  doughboys 
were  anxious  to  see  Chateau-Thierry,  which 
already,  even  among  these  lads  who  were 
out  of  touch  with  events  in  other  parts  of 
the  war  area,  had  loomed  large  in  their 
talk.  They  had  heard  much  of  it  and  of  the 
achievements  there  and  in  the  vicinity  of 
other  American  troops,  notably  the  marines, 
and  they  were  eager  to  see  it. 

They  saw  it,  however,  only  in  glimpses 
from  the  far  side  of  the  river,  for  they 
kept  on  up  the  road  and  did  not  cross  the 
river  there. 

That  night  they  bivouacked  in  woods 
along  the  Marne.  Here  the  109th  had  its 
first  taste  of  night  air  raiding.  The  regi- 
ment halted  at  the  little  town  of  Chierry, 
just  east  of  Ch§,teau-Thierry,  but  on  the 
south  bank.  One  battalion  remained 
there,  another  crossed  the  river  on 
pontoon  bridges,  left  behind  by  the 
French  and  Americans  now  in  pursuit 
of  the  fleeing  Germans,  and  remained  in 
the  hamlet  of  Brasles  for  the  night,  and 


110         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

the  third  was  ordered  out  to  guard  the 
bridges. 

About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
sentries  heard  the  whir  of  airplane  motors, 
and  fired  their  rifles.  The  sharpshooters 
of  the  regiment  rushed  to  the  edge  of  the 
woods  with  rifles  and  supplies  of  ammu- 
nition, and  the  anti-aircraft  guns  around 
Chateau-Thierry  set  up  their  baying.  The 
109th's  marksmen  tried  a  few  shots,  but 
the  range  was  too  great  for  efiPective 
shooting,  and  the  flyers  turned  tail  and 
disappeared  in  the  face  of  the  air  bar- 
rage from  the  big  guns  before  they  got 
within  good  rifle  range  of  our  men. 

Next  day  the  regiments  remained  in 
camp,  and  that  night  another  battalion  of 
the  109th  stood  guard  on  the  bridges.  This 
time  the  flyers  apparently  had  crossed 
the  river  to  the  east  or  the  west,  for  they 
came  up  from  the  south,  directly  over 
the  bridges  at  Chierry,  probably  returning 
from  an  attempt  to  raid  Paris. 

They  rained  bombs.  There  was  no  pos- 
sible chance  for  the  marksmen  this  time. 
Rather  it  was  a  question  of  keeping  out 
of  the  way  of  the  death-dealing  missiles 
hurthng   earthward.      Again   the   anti-air- 


BOMBED  FROM  THE  AIR     111 

craft  guns  gave  tongue,  and  after  ten 
minutes  or  so  of  this  explosive  outburst 
the  airplanes  disappeared.  Then  the  109th 
learned  something  of  the  difficulties  airmen 
experience  in  trying  to  hit  a  particular 
mark.  Although  the  river  had  been 
churned  to  foam  by  the  hail  of  bombs, 
only  one  bridge  was  hit  and  the  damage  to 
it  was  so  slight  as  to  be  repaired  easily. 

Early  next  morning,  July  26th,  the  period 
of  inaction  came  to  an  end.  The  regi- 
ments were  ordered  out  on  a  route  to  the 
northeast,  which  would  carry  them  some- 
what east  of  Fere-en-Tardenois,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  Soissons-Rheims  "pocket,"  which 
fell  some  days  later. 

Orders  were  for  the  Pennsylvanians  to 
press  along  that  route  with  all  speed  until 
they  effected  contact  with  the  retreating 
enemy,  and  to  exert  all  possible  pressure 
to  harass  him  and  push  him  as  far  and  as 
rapidly  as  possible. 

Gradually,  as  the  regiments  moved  for- 
ward, the  sound  of  the  firing  became 
louder,  and  they  realized  they  were  over- 
taking the  ebbing  tide  of  Germans.  Officers, 
having  learned  by  bitter  experience  at  the 
Marne  the  value  of  the  British  suggestion 


112         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

to  do  away  in  battle  with  marks  distin- 
guishing them  as  of  commissioned  rank, 
stripped  their  uniforms  of  insignia  and 
camouflaged  themselves  to  look  like  enlisted 
men.  The  ofiicer  casualties  in  those  first 
few  days  of  fighting  could  not  be  maintained 
\\ithout  working  irreparable  harm  to  the 
organizations. 

Orders  were  issued  to  beware  of  every 
spot  that  might  shelter  a  sniper  or  a 
machine  gun.  The  regiments  deployed  into 
lines  of  skirmishers,  greatly  extending  the 
front  covered  and  reducing  the  casualties 
from  shell  fire.  Patrols  were  out  in  advance, 
and  every  precaution  was  taken  against 
surprise  by  parties  of  Germans  that  might 
have  been  left  behind  in  the  retreat. 

The  Germans  still  were  using  gas  shells, 
and  again  the  masks  were  inspected  care- 
fully and  donned.  Overhead,  enemy  air- 
craft circled,  but  Allied  airman  and  anti- 
aircraft guns  were  active  enough  to  keep 
them  at  a  respectful  distance.  They  were 
unable  to  harry  the  Americans  with  machine 
gun  fire.  Occasionally,  a  bombing  flyer, 
protected  by  a  covey  of  fighters,  would  get 
into  what  he  believed  to  be  a  favorable 
position  for  unloosing  a  bomb,  but   these 


BOMBED  FROM  THE  AIR    113 

did  no  damage  to  the  thin  lines  of  our 
troops. 

At  night  they  made  their  way  into 
the  forests  and  lay  there.  There  was 
little  sleeping,  but  the  men  were  grate- 
ful for  the  rest.  They  evaded  the  vigilance 
of  the  airplane  observers,  so  they  were  not 
molested  by  a  concentrated  artillery  fire, 
against  which  the  forest  would  have  been 
poor  shelter,  but  the  continual  roar  of  the 
artillery  and  the  occasional  shell  that  came 
with  a  rending  crash  into  the  woods  effec- 
tually disposed  of  any  chance  to  sleep. 
The  men  crept  close  to  the  trunks  of  the 
larger  trees.  Some  dug  themselves  little 
shelters  close  to  the  trees,  but  the  night 
was  a  terrible  one,  and  the  day,  when  it 
came,  was  almost  a  relief. 

The  regiments  now  were  in  a  region 
where  the  Germans  had  been  long  enough 
to  establish  themselves,  where  they  had 
expected  to  stay,  but  had  been  driven  out 
sullenly  and  reluctantly,  fighting  bitter 
rearguard  actions  the  whole  way.  Our 
men  had  their  first  opportunity  to  learn 
what  it  means  to  a  peaceful  countryside  to 
face  a  German  invasion. 

The  wonderful  roads  for  which  France 


114         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

so  long  had  been  noted  were  totally  effaced 
in  places,  sometimes  by  shell  fire,  often 
with  every  evidence  of  having  been  mined. 
Here  and  there  were  tumbled  heaps  of 
masonry,  representing  what  had  once  been 
happy  little  villages,  many  of  the  houses 
centuries  old.  Trees  and  grape  vines  had 
been  hacked  off  close  to  the  ground,  and 
often  the  trunks  of  trees  were  split  and 
chopped  as  if  in  maniacal  fury.  Where 
the  Huns  had  not  had  time  to  chop  trees 
down,  they  had  cut  rings  deep  into  the 
trunks  to  kill  them. 

They  saw  the  finest  homes  of  the  wealth- 
iest landowners  aiid  the  humblest  cottages 
of  the  peasants  absolutely  laid  in  ruins — 
furniture,  tapestries,  clothing,  all  scattered 
broadcast.  Handsome  rugs  were  tramped 
into  the  mud  of  the  fields  and  roads. 
It  was  as  if  a  titanic  hurricane  had  swept 
the  entire  country. 

There  had  been  no  time  to  bury  the 
dead,  and  the  men  actually  suffered,  men- 
tally and  physically,  from  the  sights  and 
the  stench.  At  one  place  they  came  on  a 
machine  gun  emplacement,  with  dead  Boche 
lying  about  in  heaps.  Close  beside  one  of 
the  guns,  almost  in  a  sitting  posture,  with 


BOMBED  FROM  THE  AIR     115 

one  arm  thrown  over  the  weapon  as  if  with 
pride  of  possession,  was  an  American  lad, 
his  fine,  clean-cut  face  fixed  by  death  in  a 
glorified  smile  of  triumph. 

Scores  of  officers  and  men  almost  uncon- 
sciously clicked  their  hands  up  to  the 
salute  in  silent  tribute  to  this  fair-haired 
young  gladiator  who  had  not  lived  to  enjoy 
his  well-won  laurels. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  Penn- 
sylvanians  saw  one  of  the  few  really 
picturesque  sights  in  modern  warfare — a 
touch  of  the  war  of  olden  times,  which 
had  been  seen  seldom  since  Germany  went 
mad  in  1914.  Troop  after  troop  of  cavalry, 
some  French,  some  American,  passed  them, 
the  gallant  horsemen  sitting  their  steeds 
with  conscious  pride,  their  jingling  accoutre- 
ments playing  an  accompaniment  to  their 
sharp  canter,  and  round  after  round  of 
cheers  from  the  Americans  sped  them  on 
their  way  to  harry  the  retreating  foe. 

During  a  brief  halt  along  a  road  for 
rest  a  part  of  the  110th  Infantry  took 
shelter  under  an  overhanging  bank  while 
a  sudden  spurt  of  heavy  enemy  fire  drenched 
the  vicinity.  There  were  few  casualties 
and   the   officers   were   just   beginning   to 


116         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

congratulate  themselves  on  having  chosen  a 
fortunate  position  for  their  rest  when  a 
large  high-explosive  shell  landed  on  the 
edge  of  the  bank  directly  above  Company  A. 
Two  men  were  killed  outright  and  several 
were  wounded.  Lieutenant  George  W.  R. 
Martin,  of  Narberth,  rushed  to  the  wounded 
to  apply  first-aid  treatment. 

The  first  man  he  reached  was  Private 
AUanson  R.  Day,  Jr.,  nineteen  years  old, 
of  Monongahela  City,  Pa.,  whom  the  men 
called  "Deacon,"  because  of  a  mildness  of 
manner  and  a  religious  turn  of  mind. 

"Well,  Deacon,  are  you  hard  hit?" 
asked  Lieutenant  Martin,  as  he  prepared 
his  first-aid  application. 

"There's  Paul  Marshall,  Lieutenant;  he's 
hit  worse  than  I  am.  Dress  him  first, 
please,  sir.  I  can  wait,"  replied  the  Deacon, 
who  died  later  of  his  wounds. 

The  Pennsylvanians  had  thought  they 
hated  the  Hun  when  they  left  America. 
They  had  learned  more  of  him  and  his 
ways  below  the  Marne,  and  they  found 
their  loudly-voiced  threats  and  objurga- 
tions turning  to  a  steely,  silent,  implac- 
able wrath  that  was  ten  times  more  ter- 
rible and  more  ominous  for  the  enemy. 


BOMBED  FROM  THE  AIR    117 

The  farther  they  penetrated  in  the  wake 
of  the  Boche  the  more  deep-seated  and 
lasting  became  this  feeUng  of  utter  detes- 
tation. Not  for  worlds  would  they  have 
turned  back  then.  Had  word  come  that 
peace  was  declared  it  is  doubtful  if  the 
officers  could  have  held  them  back.  The 
iron  had  entered  their  souls. 

During  the  progress  of  all  these  events 
east  of  Chateau-Thierry,  the  112th  Infantry 
had  come  up  and  had  been  in  the  desperate 
fighting  in  the  vicinity  of  that  town,  so 
that  when  the  Franco-American  attack 
from  Soissons  to  Bussiares,  on  the  western 
side  of  the  pocket,  began  to  compel  a 
German  retirement  from  the  Marne,  that 
regiment  was  right  on  their  heels. 

The  110th  and  the  111th  were  close 
behind  and  all  three  soon  came  into  con- 
tact with  the  fleeing  enemy. 

In  all  their  engagements  the  greatest 
difficulty  the  officers  had  to  contend  with 
was  the  eagerness  of  the  men  to  come  to 
grips  with  the  enemy.  Repeatedly  they 
overran  their  immediate  objectives  and 
several  times  walked  into  their  own  barrage 
so  determinedly  that  officers,  unable  to  halt 
the  troops  so  hungry  for  revenge,  had  to 


118         THE   IRON   DIVISION 

call  oflF  the  barrage  to  save  them  from  being 
destroyed  by  our  own  guns. 

The  Pennsylvanians  pressed  on  relent- 
lessly. The  109th  Infantry  now  was  rush- 
ing up  from  the  Marne  to  resume  its 
meteorlike  career  as  a  fighting  unit  beside 
its  fellow  regiments  of  the  old  National 
Guard,  and  word  was  received  that  the 
53d  Field  Artillery  Brigade,  commanded  by 
Brigadier-General  W.  G.  Price,  Jr.,  of 
Chester,  was  hurrying  up  to  participate  in 
its  first  action. 

Still  other  organizations  of  the  Twenty- 
eighth  Division  hastening  to  the  front  were 
the  ammunition  train  and  the  supply 
train.  The  division  was  being  reassem- 
bled, for  the  first  time  after  leaving  Camp 
Hancock,  as  rapidly  as  the  exigencies  of 
hard  campaigning  would  permit. 

With  the  112th  and  111th  in  the  van, 
the  Pennsylvanians  pushed  northeastward 
after  the  Germans.  It  was  at  times  when 
the  Huns  had  stopped,  apparently  deter- 
mined to  make  a  stand  at  last,  only  to  be 
blasted  out  of  their  holding  positions  by  the 
Americans  and  continue  their  flight  that, 
as  so  many  ofiicers  wrote  home,  they 
*' could  not  run  fast  enough  to  keep  up  with 


BOMBED  FROM  THE  AIR    119 

Fritz,"  and  the  artillery  was  outdistanced 
hopelessly. 

Repeatedly  our  doughboys  had  to  be 
held  up  in  their  headlong  rush  to  permit 
the  artillery  to  catch  up.  It  being  useless 
to  waste  life  by  sending  infantry  against 
the  formidable  German  positions  without 
artillery  support,  our  lines  were  held  back 
until  the  struggling  field  guns  could  come 
up  to  silence  the  German  guns  by  expert 
counter  battery  work. 

The  Pennsylvanians  were  wild  with  eager- 
ness and  excitement.  None  but  the  officers 
had  access  to  maps,  and  hundreds  of  the 
men,  having  only  hazy  ideas  as  to  the 
geography  of  France  or  the  distances  they 
had  traveled,  believed  they  were  pushing 
straight  for  Germany  and  had  not  far  to  go. 

One  and  all  realized  fully  that,  when 
they  began  their  fighting,  the  Germans  for 
months  had  been  moving  forward  triumph- 
antly. They  realized  just  as  well  that  the 
Germans  now  were  in  flight  before  them. 
Each  man  felt  that  to  his  particular  com- 
pany belonged  the  glory  of  that  reversal  of 
conditions.  Thus,  scores  wrote  home: 
"Our  company  was  all  that  stood  between 
the  Boche  and  Paris,  and  we  licked  him  and 


120         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

have  him  on  the  run" — or  words  to  that 
effect. 

They  were  like  a  set  of  rabbit  hounds, 
almost  whining  in  their  anxiety  to  get 
at  the  foe.  Deluged  by  high  explosives, 
shrapnel  and  gas  shells,  seeing  their  com- 
rades mowed  down  by  machine  gun  fire, 
bombed  from  the  sky,  alternately  in  pouring 
rain  and  burning  sun,  hungry  half  the  time, 
their  eyes  burning  from  want  of  sleep,  half 
suffocated  from  long  intervals  in  gas  masks, 
undergoing  all  the  hardships  of  a  bitter 
campaign  against  a  determined,  vigorous 
and  unscrupulous  enemy,  yet  their  only 
thought  was  to  push  on — ^and  on — ^and  on. 

The  likeness  to  rabbit  hounds  is  not  un- 
complimentary or  far-fetched.  One  soldier 
wrote  home:  "We  have  had  the  Boche 
on  the  run  in  open  country,  and  it  has  been 
like  shooting  rabbits — ^and  I  am  regarded  as 
a  good  shot  in  the  army." 


CHAPTER  Vni 
In  Heroic  Mold 

CAPTAIN  W.  R.  DUNLAP,  of  Pitts- 
burgh, commander  of  Company  E, 
111th  Infantry,  and  Captam  Lucius 
M.  Phelps,  Oil  City,  of  Company  G,  112th 
Infantry,  with  their  troops,  led  the  advance 
beyond  Epieds. 

They  came  to  the  western  edge  of  the 
forest  of  Fere,  and  into  that  magnificent 
wooded  tract  the  Germans  fled.  The  occa- 
sional small  woods,  dotting  open  country, 
through  which  they  had  been  fighting,  now 
gave  way  to  heavily  timbered  land,  with 
here  and  there  an  open  spot  of  varying 
extent. 

An  American  brigadier-general,  who  has 
the  reputation  of  being  something  of  a 
Haroun-al-Raschid  among  the  men,  left 
his  dugout  in  the  rear  at  night  and  went 
forward  to  the  front  lines  to  get  personal 
knowledge  of  the  dangers  his  men  were 
facing.  Scouts  having  reported  that  the 
Germans    were    preparing    to    launch    an 

(121) 


122         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

attack  in  hope  of  delaying  our  troops,  the 
general  started  for  a  position  from  which 
he  would  be  able  to  see  the  attack  and  watch 
our  men  meet  it.  He  became  confused  in 
the  forest  and  arrived  at  the  designated 
observation  post  later  than  he  had  intended. 
He  found  it  had  been  destroyed  by  a  shell 
just  a  few  moments  before  he  reached  it. 
Had  he  been  on  time  he  certainly  would 
have  lost  his  life. 

He  took  up  another  position  and  Lieu- 
tenant William  Robinson,  Uniontown,  Pa., 
started  to  lead  forward  the  first  line  of 
Americans  to  break  up  the  German  forma- 
tions. Standing  on  a  little  ridge,  the 
general  saw  the  young  oflScer,  whom  he 
had  known  for  years,  going  among  his 
men,  cheering  and  encouraging  them,  when 
a  huge  shell  burst  almost  at  the  lieutenant's 
feet.  A  party  of  his  men  rushed  to  the 
spot,  but  there  was  not  even  a  trace  of  the 
oflScer. 

"I'll  sleep  alone  on  this  spot  with  my 
thoughts  tonight,"  said  the  saddened  gen- 
eral, and  he  did,  spending  the  night  in  a 
shell  hole. 

The  Americans  battled  their  way  in  little 
groups  into   the  edge  of   the  forest,   like 


IN  HEROIC  MOLD  123 

bushmen.  This  was  the  situation  when 
night  fell,  with  a  fringe  of  Americans  in 
hiding  along  the  southern  edge  of  the 
woods.  The  forest  seemed  to  present  an 
almost  impenetrable  barrier,  through  which 
it  was  utterly  hopeless  to  continue  an 
effort  to  advance  in  the  darkness. 

So  scattered  were  the  groups  that  had 
forced  their  way  into  the  shelter  of  the 
wood  that  it  was  imperative  headquarters 
should  know  their  approximate  positions 
in  order  to  dispose  the  forces  for  a  renewal 
of  the  assault  in  the  morning.  In  this 
emergency  Lieutenant  William  Allen,  Jr., 
Pittsburgh,  of  Company  B,  111th  Infantry, 
volunteered  to  find  the  advanced  detach- 
ments of  our  men. 

Throughout  the  night  he  threaded  his 
way  through  the  woods,  not  knowing  what 
instant  he  would  stumble  on  Germans  or 
be  fired  on  or  thrust  through  by  his  own 
men.  It  was  a  hair-raising,  dare-devil  feat 
of  such  a  nature  that  he  won  the  unstinted 
admiration  of  the  men  and  the  warm  praise 
of  his  superiors.  When  he  found  himself 
near  other  men  he  remained  silent  until  a 
muttered  word  or  even  such  inconsequent 
things  as  the  tinkle  of  a  distinctly  American 


124         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

piece  of  equipment  or  the  smell  of  American 
tobacco — entirely  different  from  that  in  the 
European  armies — ^let  him  know  his  neigh- 
bors were  friends.  Then  a  soft  call  "in 
good  United  States"  established  his  own 
identity  and  made  it  safe  for  him  to 
approach. 

As  the  first  streamers  of  dawn  were 
appearing  in  the  sky  ofif  in  the  direction  of 
Hunland,  he  crawled  back  to  the  main 
American  lines,  and  the  report  he  made 
enabled  his  superiors  to  plan  their  attack, 
which  worked  with  clock-like  precision  and 
pushed  the  Boche  on  through  the  woods. 

Corporal  Alfred  W.  Davis,  Uniontown, 
Pa.,  of  Company  D,  110th  Infantry,  was 
moving  forward  through  the  woods  in  this 
fighting,  close  to  a  lieutenant  of  his  com- 
pany, when  a  bullet  from  a  sniper  hidden 
in  a  tree  struck  the  corporal's  gun,  was 
deflected  and  pierced  the  lieutenant's  brain, 
killing  him  instantly.  Crawling  up  a 
ravine  like  an  Indian  stalking  game,  Davis 
set  off  with  blood  in  his  eye  in  quest  of 
revenge. 

When  he  picked  off  his  eighteenth  Ger- 
man in  succession  it  was  nearly  dark, 
so  he  "called  it  a  day,"  as  he  remarked,  and 


IN  HEROIC   MOLD  125 

slept  better  that  night  for  thought  of  the 
toll  he  had  taken  from  the  Germans  to 
avenge  his  officer. 

In  the  woods  the  Germans  fought  des- 
perately, despite  that  they  were  dazed  by 
the  terrific  artillery  fire.  Hidden  in  tree 
tops  and  under  rocks,  with  even  their 
steel  helmets  camouflaged  in  red,  green 
and  yellow,  it  was  difficult  for  the  attackers 
to  pick  them  out  in  the  flicker  of  the 
shadows  on  the  dense  foliage. 

While  the  attacking  waves  were  advanc- 
ing it  was  discovered  that  touch  had  been 
lost  with  the  forces  on  the  right  flank  of  the 
110th,  and  Sergeant  Blake  Lightner,  Al- 
toona.  Pa.,  a  liaison  scout  from  Company 
G,  110th,  started  out  alone  to  re-establish 
the  connection. 

He  ran  into  an  enemy  machine  gun  nest, 
killed  the  crew  and  captured  the  guns  single- 
handed.  Then  he  went  back,  brought  up 
a  machine  gun  crew,  established  a  snipers' 
post,  re-established  the  communications, 
returned  to  his  own  command  and  gave 
the  co-ordinates  for  laying  down  a  barrage 
on  a  line  of  enemy  machine  gun  nests  he  had 
discovered. 

Toward  nightfall  of  one  of  these  days  of 


126         THE  IRON   DIVISION 

desperate  fighting  it  was  discovered  that 
the  ammunition  supply  of  the  first  battalion 
of  the  110th  was  running  low,  and  Corporal 
Harold  F.  Wickerham,  Washington,  Pa., 
and  Private  Boy n ton  David  Marchand, 
Monongahela  City,  Pa.,  were  sent  back 
with  a  message  for  brigade  headquarters. 
When  they  reached  the  spot  where  the 
headquarters  had  been  they  found  it  had 
been  moved.  They  walked  for  miles 
through  the  woods  in  the  darkness  and 
finally  came  to  a  town  where  another 
regiment  was  stationed,  and  they  sent 
their  message  over  the  military  telephone. 

They  were  invited  to  remain  the  rest  of 
the  night  and  sleep;  fearing  the  message 
might  not  get  through  properly,  however, 
and  knowing  the  grave  need  of  more  anmiu- 
nition,  they  set  out  again,  and  toward 
morning  reached  their  own  ammunition 
dump  and  confirmed  the  message  orally. 
Again  they  refused  a  chance  to  rest,  and 
set  out  to  rejoin  their  command,  which 
they  reached  just  in  time  to  take  part  in  a 
battle  in  the  afternoon.  Such  are  the 
characteristics  of  the  American  soldier. 

Somewhat  the  same  fate  as  befell  Epieds, 
which    had    been    completely    leveled     by 


IN  HEROIC  MOLD  127 

artillery  fire,  came  to  the  village  of  Le 
Channel.  After  violent  fighting  lasting 
two  hours,  during  which  the  village  changed 
hands  twice,  it  was  blown  to  pieces  by  the 
artillery,  and  our  men  took  possession, 
driving  the  Germans  on  northeastward. 

The  Pennsylvanians  now  began  to  feel 
the  change  in  the  German  resistance  as 
the  Boche  retreat  reached  its  second  line 
of  defense,  based  on  the  Ourcq  River,  and 
the  fighting  became  hourly  more  bitter  and 
determined.  This,  as  well  as  the  dense 
forests,  where  the  Germans  had  strung  a 
maze  of  barbed  wire  from  tree  to  tree, 
slowed  up  the  retreat  and  pursuit.  Also 
the  density  of  the  woods  hampered  obser- 
vation of  the  enemy  from  the  air  and  there- 
fore slowed  up  our  artillery  fire. 

The  process  of  taking  enemy  positions  by 
frontal  assault,  always  a  costly  operation, 
gave  way,  wherever  possible,  to  infiltra- 
tion, by  which  villages  and  other  posts 
were  pinched  off,  exactly  as  Cambrai,  St. 
Quentin,  Lille  and  other  places  were 
taken  later  by  the  British  farther  north. 

The  process  of  infiltration  from  a  mili- 
tary standpoint  means  exactly  the  same 
thing   as   the   word   means   in   any   other 


128         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

connection.  A  few  men  at  a  time  filter 
into  protected  positions  close  to  the  enemy 
until  enough  have  assembled  to  offer  battle, 
the  enemy  meanwhile  being  kept  down  by 
strong,  concentrated  fire  from  the  main 
body  and  the  artillery.  Although  much 
slower  than  an  assault,  this  is  extremely 
economical  of  men. 

During  this  progress  from  the  Marne 
northward,  the  various  headquarters  had 
found  some  difficulty  in  keeping  in  touch 
with  the  advancing  columns.  A  head- 
quarters, even  of  a  regiment,  is  not  so 
mobile  as  the  regiment  itself.  There  is  a 
vast  amount  of  paraphernalia  and  supplies 
to  be  moved,  yet  it  is  necessary  that  a 
reasonably  close  touch  be  maintained  with 
the  fighting  front. 

The  German  method  of  retreat  neces- 
sarily resulted  in  the  Americans'  going 
forward  by  leaps  and  bounds.  Strong 
points,  such  as  well-organized  villages, 
manned  by  snipers  and  machine  guns  in 
some  force,  held  the  troops  up  until  the  Ger- 
man rear-guards  were  disposed  of.  Once 
they  were  cleaned  up,  however,  the  Ameri- 
can advance,  hampered  only  by  hidden 
sharpshooters  and  machine  guns  in  small 


IN  HEROIC  MOLD  12^ 

strength,  moved  forward  rapidly.  It  was 
reported,  for  instance,  that  one  regimental 
headquarters  was  moved  three  times  in 
one  day  to  keep  up  with  the  lines. 

Most  of  the  time,  regimental,  and  even 
brigade,  headquarters  were  under  artillery 
fire  from  the  German  big  guns,  and  it  was 
from  this  cause  that  the  first  Pennsylvania 
ofiicer  of  the  rank  of  lieutenant-colonel 
was  killed,  July  28th.  He  was  Wallace  W. 
Fetzer,  of  Milton,  Pa.,  second  in  command 
of  the  110th. 

Regimental  headquarters  had  been  moved 
far  forward  and  established  in  a  brick 
house  in  a  good  state  of  preservation.  The 
office  machinery  just  was  getting  well  into 
the  swing  again  when  a  high  explosive  shell 
fell  in  the  front  yard  and  threw  a  geyser  of 
earth  over  Colonel  Kemp,  who  was  at  the 
door,  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Fetzer,  who 
was  sitting  on  the  steps. 

A  moment  later  a  second  shell  struck 
the  building  and  killed  three  orderlies. 
This  was  good  enough  evidence  for  Col- 
onel Kemp  that  his  headquarters  had  been 
spotted  by  Boche  airmen,  for  the  artillery^ 
was  registering  too  accurately  to  be  done 
by  chance,  so  he  ordered  a  move. 

9 


180         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Oflacers  and  men  of  the  staff  were  pack- 
ing up  to  move  and  Lieutenant  Stewart 
M.  Alexander,  Altoona,  Pa.,  the  regimental 
intelligence  oflScer,  was  finishing  questioning 
two  captured  Hun  captains  when  a  big  high- 
explosive  shell  scored  a  direct  hit  on  the 
building.  Seventeen  men  in  the  house, 
including  the  two  German  captains,  were 
killed  outright.  Colonel  Kemp  and  Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Fetzer  had  left  the  building 
and  were  standing  side  by  side  in  the  yard. 
A  piece  of  shell  casing  struck  Colonel 
Fetzer,  killing  him,  and  a  small  piece 
struck  Colonel  Kemp  a  blow  on  the  jaw, 
which  left  him  speechless  and  suffering 
from  shell-shock  for  some  time. 

Lieutenant  Alexander,  face  to  face  with 
the  two  German  officer  prisoners,  was 
blown  clear  out  of  the  building  into  the 
middle  of  the  roadway,  but  was  uninjured, 
except  for  shock. 

It  was  this  almost  uncanny  facility  of 
artillery  fire  for  taking  one  man  and 
leaving  another  of  two  close  together, 
that  led  to  the  fancy  on  the  part  of  soldiers 
that  it  was  useless  to  try  to  evade  the  big 
shells,  because  if  "your  number"  was  on 
one  it  would  get  you,  no  matter  what  you 


IN  HEROIC  MOLD  131 

did,  and  if  your  number  was  not  on  it,  it 
would  pass  harmlessly  by.  Thousands  of 
the  men  became  absolute  fatalists  in  this 
regard. 

Major  Edward  Martin,  of  Waynesburg, 
Pa.,  took  temporary  command  of  the 
regiment  and  won  high  commendation  by 
his  work  in  the  next  few  days. 

It  now  became  necessary  to  straighten 
the  American  line.  The  109th  had  come 
up  and  was  just  behind  the  110th.  It  had 
taken  shelter  for  the  night  of  July  28th  in  a 
wood  just  south  of  Fresne,  and  early  on  the 
morning  of  July  29th  received  orders  to  be 
on  the  south  side  of  the  Ourcq,  two  miles 
away,  by  noon  of  that  day. 

The  men  knew  they  were  closely  in  touch 
with  the  enemy  once  more,  but  this  time 
there  was  none  of  the  nervousness  before 
action  that  had  marked  their  first  entrance 
into  battle.  They  had  beaten  back  the 
Prussian  Guard,  the  flower  of  the  Crown 
Prince's  army,  once,  and  knew  they  could 
do  it  again. 

Furthermore,  there  were  many  scores  to 
settle.  Every  man  felt  he  wanted  to 
avenge  the  officers  and  comrades  who  had 
fallen  in  the  earlier  fighting,  and  it  was  a 


1S«         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

grimly-determined  and  relentless  body  of 
men  that  emerged  from  that  wood  in  skir- 
mish formation  before  dawn  of  July  29th. 

Almost  immediately  parts  of  the  line 
came  into  action,  but  it  was  about  an 
hour  after  the  beginning  of  "the  day's 
work"  that  the  first  serious  fighting  took 
place.  Company  M,  near  the  center  of 
the  lOQth's  long  line,  ran  into  a  strong 
machine  gun  nest.  The  new  men  who  had 
been  brought  into  the  company  to  fill  the 
gaps  that  were  left  after  the  fighting  on  the 
Marne  had  been  assimilated  quickly  and 
inoculated  with  the  109th's  fighting  spirit 
and  desire  for  revenge. 

Although  the  company  had  gone  into 
its  first  action  as  the  only  one  in  the  regi- 
ment with  the  full  complement  of  six  com- 
missioned officers,  it  now  was  sadly  short, 
for  those  bitter  days  below  the  Marne 
had  worked  havoc  with  the  commissioned 
personnel  as  well  as  with  the  enlisted  men. 

Officers  were  becoming  scarce  all  through 
the  regiment.  Lieutenant  Fales  was  the 
only  one  of  the  original  officers  of  the  com- 
pany left  in  service,  so  Lieutenant  Edward 
B.  Goward,  of  Philadelphia,  had  been 
sent  by  Colonel  Brown  from  headquarters 


IN  HEROIC  MOLD  18S 

to  take  command  of  the  company,  with 
Lieutenant  Fales  second  in  command. 

The  company  had  to  advance  down  a  long 
hill,  cross  a  small  tributary  of  the  Ourcq, 
ivhich  here  was  near  its  source,  and  go  up 
another  hill — all  in  the  open.  The  Boche 
were  intrenched  along  the  edge  of  a  wood  at 
the  top  of  this  second  hill,  and  they  poured 
in  a  terrible  fire  as  the  company  advanced. 

Lieutenants  Goward  and  Fales  were  lead- 
ing the  first  platoons.  The  company  was 
wild  with  eagerness  and  there  was  no 
holding  them.  Here  was  the  first  chance 
they  had  had  since  the  Marne  to  square 
accounts  with  the  unspeakable  Hun,  and 
they  were  in  no  humor  to  employ  subtle 
tactics  or  use  even  ordinary  care. 

With  queer  gurgling  sounds  behind  their 
gas  masks — they  would  have  been  yells  of 
fury  without  the  masks  in  place — ^they 
swept  forward.  Lieutenant  Goward  ran 
straight  intc)  a  stream  of  machine  gun 
bullets.  Ciie  struck  him  in  the  right 
shoulder  and  whirled  him  around.  A  sec- 
ond struck  him  in  the  left  shoulder  and 
twisted  him  further.  As  he  crumpled  up  a 
stream  of  bullets  struck  him  in  the  stomach. 
He  fell  dying. 


134         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Seeing  him  topple.  Lieutenant  Fales 
rushed  toward  him  to  see  if  he  could  be  of 
service.  He  walked  directly  into  the  same 
fire  and  was  mortally  wounded.  Go  ward 
managed  to  roll  into  a  shell  hole,  where  he 
died  in  a  short  time. 

The  men  did  not  stop.  Led  only  by  their 
non-commissioned  officers,  they  plunged 
straight  into  and  over  the  machine  gun 
nest  directly  in  the  face  of  its  murderous 
fire  which  had  torn  gaps  in  their  ranks, 
but  could  not  stop  them.  They  stamped 
out  the  German  occupants  with  as  little 
compunction  as  one  steps  on  a  spider. 
Hie  men  came  out  of  the  woods  breathing 
hard  and  trembling  from  the  reaction 
to  their  fury  and  exertions,  but  they  turned 
over  no  prisoners. 

The  machine  gun  crews  were  dead  to  a 

Goward  and  Fales  had  been  especially 
popular  with  the  men  of  the  company, 
and  their  loss  was  felt  keenly.  Goward 
was  distinctly  of  the  student  type,  quiet, 
thoughtful,  scholarly,  doing  his  own  think- 
ing at  all  times.  He  had  been  noted  for 
this  characteristic  when  a  student  at  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania.     Fales,  on  the 


IN  HEROIC  MOLD  135 

other  hand,  was  of  the  dashing,  athletic 
type,  and  the  two,  with  their  directly 
opposed  natures,  had  worked  together  per- 
fectly and  quite  captured  the  hearts  of 
their  men. 

Both  Goward  and  Fales  are  buried  on 
the  side  of  a  little  hill  near  Courmont,  in 
the  Commune  of  Cierges,  Department  of 
the  Aisne,  their  graves  marked  by  the 
customary  wooden  crosses,  to  which  are 
attached  their  identification  disks. 

From  then  on,  the  rest  of  the  day  was  a 
continuous,  forward-moving  battle  for  the 
regiment.  Every  mile  was  contested  hotly 
by  Hun  rear-guard  machine  gunners,  left 
behind  to  harass  the  advancing  Americans 
and  make  their  pursuit  as  costly  as  possible. 

Lieutenant  Herbert  P.  Hunt,  of  Philadel- 
phia, son  of  a  former  Heutenant-colonel 
of  the  old  First,  leading  Company  A  of  the 
109th  in  a  charge,  was  struck  in  the  left 
shoulder  by  a  piece  of  shell  and  still  was  in 
hospital  when  the  armistice  ended  hostilities. 

The  109th  reached  Courmont  and  found 
it  well  organized  by  a  small  force  of  Ger- 
mans, with  snipers  and  machine  guns  in 
what  remained  of  the  houses,  firing  from 
windows  and  doors  and  housetops.     They 


1S6         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

cleaned  up  the  town  in  a  workmanlike 
manner,  and  only  a  handful  of  prisoners 
went  back  to  the  cages  in  the  rear. 

It  was  in  this  fighting  that  Sergeant 
John  H.  Winthrop,  of  Bryn  Mawr,  per- 
formed the  service  for  which  he  was  cited 
oflScially  by  General  Pershing,  winning  the 
Distinguished  Service  Cross.  The  sergeant 
was  killed  in  action  a  few  weeks  later. 

He  was  a  member  of  Company  G,  109th 
Infantry.  All  its  oflScers  became  inca- 
pacitated when  the  company  was  in  action. 
Sergeant  Winthrop  took  command.  The 
official  citation  in  his  case  read: 

"For  extraordinary  heroism  in  action 
near  the  River  Ourcq,  northeast  of  Chateau- 
Thierry,  France,  July  30,  1918.  Sergeant 
Winthrop  took  command  of  his  company 
when  all  his  officers  were  killed  or  wounded, 
and  handled  it  with  extreme  courage,  cool- 
ness and  skill,  under  an  intense  artillery 
bombardment  and  machine  gun  fire,  during 
an  exceptionally  difficult  attack." 


CHAPTER  IX 

The  Church  of  Roncheres 

MEANWHILE,  the  110th  had  been 
having  a  stirring  part  of  the  war 
aU  its  own,  in  the  taking  of 
Roncheres.  As  was  the  case  with  every 
other  town  and  village  in  the  whole  region, 
the  Germans,  without  expecting  or  intend- 
ing to  hold  the  town,  had  taken  every 
possible  step  to  make  the  taking  of  it  as 
costly  as  possible.  With  their  characteristic 
disregard  of  every  finer  instinct,  they  had 
made  the  church,  fronting  an  open  square  in 
the  center  of  the  town  and  commanding 
roads  in  four  directions,  the  center  of  their 
resistance. 

Every  building,  every  wall,  fence  and 
tree,  sheltered  a  machine  gun  or  a  sniper. 
Most  of  the  enemy  died  where  they  stood. 
As  was  the  case  99  times  out  of  every  100, 
they  fired  until  they  dropped  from  bullets 
or  thrust  up  their  hands  and  bleated 
"Kamerad,"  like  scared  sheep,  when  our 
men  got  close  enough  to  use  the  bayonet- 

(137) 


138         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Some  time  before,  however,  the  Pemi- 
sylvanians  had  undertaken  to  make  pris- 
oners of  a  German  thus  beseeching  mercy, 
and  it  was  only  after  several  men  had  fallen 
from  apparently  mysterious  fire  that  they 
discovered  the  squealing  Hun,  hands  in 
air,  had  his  foot  on  a  lever  controlling  the 
fire  of  his  machine  gun.  Thus,  he  assumed 
an  attitude  of  surrender  in  order  to  decoy 
our  men  within  easier  range  of  the  gun  he 
operated  with  his  foot. 

So  it  is  small  wonder  that  the  men  of  the 
110th  went  berserk  in  Roncheres  and  made 
few  prisoners.  They  played  the  old-fash- 
ioned game  of  hide  and  seek,  in  which  the 
men  in  khaki  were  always  "it,"  and  to  be 
spied  meant  death  for  the  Hun.  From 
building  to  building  they  moved  steadily 
forward  until  they  came  within  range  of 
the  village  church,  when  their  progress 
was  stayed  for  some  time. 

There  was  a  cross  on  the  roof  of  the 
church  of  some  kind  of  stone  with  a  red 
tinge.  Behind  it  the  Germans  had  planted 
guns.  Three  guns  were  hidden  in  the 
belfry,  from  which  the  bells  had  been 
removed  and  sent  to  Germany.  Gothic 
walls  and  balconies,  from  which  in  happier 


THE  CHURCH  OF  RONCHERES  139 

days  the  plaster  statuettes  of  saints  looked 
down  on  the  fair,  green  fields  and  peaceful 
countryside  of  France,  sheltered  machine 
gunners,  snipers  and  small  cannon. 

Sharpshooters  of  the  110th  finally  picked 
off  the  gunners  behind  the  cross,  but  the 
little  fortress  in  the  belfry  still  held  out. 
Detachments  set  out  to  work  around  the 
outer  edge  of  the  town  and  surround  the 
church.  When  they  found  houses  with 
partition  walls  so  strong  that  a  hole  could 
not  be  battered  through  easily,  sharp- 
shooters were  stationed  at  the  windows 
and  doors  and  they  were  able  to  hold  the 
German  fire  down  so  well  that  other  men 
could  slip  to  the  shelter  of  the  next  house. 

This  was  all  right  until  they  came  to  the 
roads  that  radiated  from  the  church  to  the 
four  corners  of  the  village.  They  were  not 
wide  roads,  but  the  terrific  fire  that  swept 
down  them  at  every  sign  of  a  movement 
by  the  Americans  made  the  prospect  of 
crossing  them  seem  like  a  first  class  suicide. 
Nevertheless,  it  had  to  be  done.  The  men 
who  led  this  circuitous  advance  waited 
until  enough  of  their  comrades  had  arrived 
to  make  a  sortie  in  force.  The  best  rifle- 
men were  told  off  to  remain  behind  in  the 


140         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

houses  and  to  mark  down  the  peepholes 
and  other  places  from  which  the  fire  was 
coming.  Automatic  riflemen  and  rifle 
grenadiers  were  assigned  to  look  after 
the  Huns  secreted  in  the  church. 

When  these  arrangements  were  com- 
pleted, the  Americans  began  a  fire  that 
reduced  the  German  effort  to  a  minimum. 
Our  marksmen  did  not  wait  for  a  German 
to  show  himself.  They  kept  a  steady 
stream  of  lead  and  steel  pouring  into  every 
place  from  which  German  shots  had  been 
seen  to  come. 

Under  tover  of  this  sweeping  hail,  the 
men  who  were  to  continue  the  advance 
darted  across  the  road,  right  in  the  open. 
They  made  no  effort  to  fire,  but  put  every 
ounce  of  energy  into  the  speed  of  their 
legs.  Thus  a  footing  was  established  by  a 
considerable  group  on  the  other  side  of  the 
road,  and  the  remaining  houses  between 
there  and  the  church  soon  were  cleaned  up, 
so  that  reinforcements  could  move  forward. 

Still  the  church  remained  the  dominating 
figure  of  the  fight,  as  it  had  been  of  the 
village  landscape  so  many  years.  Its  stout 
stone  walls,  built  to  last  for  centuries, 
offered  ideal  shelter,  and  before  anything 


THE  CHURCH  OF  RONCHERES  141 

further  could  be  done  it  became  imperative 
to  wipe  out  that  nest  of  snarHng  Hun  fire. 

Using  the  same  tactics  as  had  availed 
them  so  well  in  the  crossing  of  the  road, 
a  little  band  of  Americans  was  enabled  to 
cross  the  small  open  space  at  the  rear  of 
the  church.  Here  a  shell  from  a  German 
battery  had  conveniently  opened  a  hole 
in  the  solid  masonry.  It  was  the  work 
of  only  a  few  minutes  to  enlarge  this,  and 
our  men  began  to  filter  into  the  once  sacred 
edifice,  now  so  profaned  by  the  sacrilegious 
Hun. 

The  bottom  of  the  church  was  turned 
quickly  into  a  charnel  house  for  the  Boche 
there,  and  then  our  men  were  free  to  turn 
their  attention  to  that  annoying  steeple, 
which  still  was  taking  its  toll.  One  man 
led  the  way  up  the  winding  stone  stairs, 
fighting  every  step.  Strange  to  relate,  he 
went  safely  to  the  top,  although  comrades 
behind  him  were  struck  down,  and  he  faced 
a  torrent  of  fire  and  even  missiles  hurled 
down  by  the  frantic  Huns  who  sought  to 
stay  this  implacable  advance. 

Eventually  the  top  of  the  stairs  was 
gained.  A  German  under  officer,  who 
evidently   had   been   in   command   of   the 


142         THE  IRON   DIVISION 

stronghold,  leaped  over  the  low  parapet 
to  death,  and  three  Huns,  the  last  of  the 
garrison,  abjectly  waved  their  arms  in  the 
air  and  squalled  the  customary  "Kamerad! 
Kamerad!" 

Mopping  up  of  the  rest  of  the  town  was 
an  easy  task  by  comparison  with  what 
had  gone  before.  Then,  with  only  a  brief 
breathing  spell,  the  regiment  swung  a  little 
to  the  northwest  and  reached  Courmont  in 
time  to  join  the  109th  in  wiping  out  the 
last  machine  gunners  there. 

Now  came  an  achievement  of  which 
survivors  of  the  109th  and  110th  Infantr^^ 
Regiments — ^the  Fifty-fifth  Infantry  Bri- 
gade— ^will  retain  the  memory  for  years  to 
come.  It  was  one  of  those  feats  that  become 
regimental  traditions,  the  tales  of  which  are 
handed  down  for  generations  within  regi- 
mental organizations  and  in  later  years 
become  established  as  standards  toward 
which  future  members  of  the  organization 
may  aspire  with  only  small  likelihood  of 
attaining. 

This  achievement  was  the  taking  of  the 
Bois  de  Grimpettes,  or  Grimpettes  Wood. 

The  operation,  in  the  opinion  of  oflScers 
outside  the  Fifty-fifth  Brigade,  compared 


THE  CHURCH  OF  RONCHERES  143 

most  favorably  with  the  never-to-be-for- 
gotten exploit  of  the  marines  in  the  Bois 
de  Belleau. 

There  were  these  differences:  First,  the 
Belleau  Wood  fight  occurred  at  a  time 
when  all  the  rest  of  the  western  front 
was  more  or  less  inactive,  but  the  taking 
of  Grimpettes  Wood  came  in  the  midst  of 
a  general  forward  movement  that  was 
electrifying  the  world,  a  movement  in 
which  miles  of  other  front  bulked  large 
in  public  attention;  second,  the  taking  of 
Belleau  was  one  of  the  very  first  real  bat- 
tle operations  of  Americans,  and  the  ma- 
rines were  watched  by  the  critical  eyes  of 
a  warring  world  to  see  how  "those  Amer- 
icans" would  compare  with  the  seasoned 
soldiery  of  Europe;  third,  the  Belleau  fight 
was  an  outstanding  operation,  both  by 
reason  of  the  vital  necessity  of  taking  the 
wood  in  order  to  clear  the  way  for  what 
was  to  follow  and  because  it  was  not 
directly  connected  with  or  part  of  other 
operations  anywhere  else. 

Grimpettes  Wood  was  the  Fifty-fifth 
Infantry  Brigade's  own  "show."  The 
wood  lies  north  of  Courmont  and  just  south 
of  Sergy.      It  is  across  the  Ourcq,  which 


144         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

is  so  narrow  that  some  of  the  companies 
laid  litters  from  bank  to  bank  and  walked 
over  dry  shod,  and  so  shallow  that  those 
who  waded  across  hardly  went  in  over 
their  shoetops.  At  one  side  the  wood  runs 
over  a  little  hill.  The  109th  and  110th 
were  told,  in  effect: — 

"The  Germans  have  a  strong  position  in 
Grimpettes  Wood.     Take  it." 

The  regiments  were  beginning  to  know 
something  about  German  "strong  posi- 
tions." In  fact  they  had  passed  the 
amateur  stage  in  dealing  with  such  prob- 
lems. Although,  perhaps  they  could  not 
be  assigned  yet  to  the  expert  class,  never- 
theless they  were  supplied  with  groups  of 
junior  officers  and  "noncoms"  who  felt — 
and  justly — ^that  they  knew  something 
about  cleaning  up  "strong  positions."  They 
no  longer  went  about  such  a  task  with  the 
jaunty  sang  f redd  and  reckless  daredeviltry 
that  had  marked  their  earlier  experiences. 
They  had  learned  that  it  did  themselves 
and  their  men  no  good  and  was  of  no 
service  to  America,  to  advance  defiantly  in 
the  open  in  splendid  but  foolish  disregard 
of  hidden  machine  guns  and  every  other 
form  of  Hun  strafing. 


THE  CHURCH  OF  RONCHERES  145 

Yet  when  it  came  to  the  taking  of  Grim- 
pettes  Wood,  they  had  no  alternative  to 
just  that  thing.  The  Germans  then  were 
making  their  last  stand  on  the  line  of  the 
Ourcq.  Already  they  had  determined  on, 
and  had  begun,  the  further  retreat  to  the 
line  of  the  Vesle,  at  this  point  about  ten 
miles  farther  north.  Such  places  as  Grim- 
pettes  Wood  had  been  manned  in  force  to 
hold  up  the  Franco-American  advance  as 
long  as  possible.  When  they  were  torn 
loose,  the  Huns  again  would  be  in  full 
flight  northeastward. 

Grimpettes  was  organized  as  other  small 
woods  had  been  by  the  Germans  during 
the  fighting  of  the  summer:  the  trees  were 
loaded  with  machine  guns,  weapons  and 
gunners  chained  to  their  places;  the  under- 
brush was  laced  through  with  barbed  wire; 
concealed  strong  points  checker-boarded 
the  dense,  second  growth  woodland,  so 
that  when  the  Pennsylvanians  took  one 
nest  of  machine  guns  they  found  them- 
selves fired  on  from  two  or  more  others. 
This  maze  of  machine  guns  and  snipers  was 
supplemented  by  countless  trench  mortars 
and  one-pounder  cannon. 

The  taking  of  the  hilly  end  of  the  wood 


146         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

was  assigned  to  the  110th,  and  the  109th 
was  to  clean  out  the  lower  part. 

It  was  a  murderous  undertaking.  The 
nearest  edge  of  the  wood  was  700  yards 
from  the  farthest  extension  of  the  village 
of  Courmont  that  offered  even  a  shadow  of 
protection. 

The  regiments  swung  out  from  the  shel- 
ter of  the  village  in  the  most  approved 
wave  formation,  faultlessly  executed.  The 
moment  the  first  men  emerged  from  the 
protection  of  the  buildings,  they  ran  into 
a  hail  of  lead  and  steel  that  seemed,  some 
of  the  men  said  later,  almost  like  a  solid 
wall  in  places.  There  was  not  a  leaf  to 
protect  them.  Hundreds  of  machine  guns 
tore  loose  in  the  woods,  until  their  rattle 
blended  into  one  solid  roar.  One-pounder 
cannon  sniped  at  them.  German  airmen, 
who  had  complete  control  of  the  air  in  that 
i^icinity,  flew  the  length  of  the  advancing 
lines,  as  low  as  100  feet  from  the  ground, 
raking  them  with  machine  gun  fire  and 
dropping  bombs.  The  Pennsylvanians  or- 
ganized their  own  air  defense.  They 
simply  used  their  rifles  with  more  or  less 
deterrent  effect  on  the  flyers. 

The  sniping  one-pounders  were  the  worst 


THE  CHURCH  OF  RONCHERES  147 

of  all,  the  men  said  afterward — ^those,  and 
the  air  bombs.  They  messed  one  up  so 
badly  when  they  scored  a  hit. 

It  is  a  mystery  how  any  man  lived 
through  that  welter  of  fire.  Even  the 
men  who  survived  could  not  explain  their 
good  fortune.  That  the  regiments  were 
not  wiped  out  was  a  demonstration  ot  the 
tremendous  expenditure  of  ammunition  in 
warfare  compared  to  effectiveness  of  fire, 
for  thousands  of  bullets  and  shells  were 
fired  in  that  engagement  for  every  man 
who  was  hit. 

A  pitiful  few  of  the  men  in  the  leading 
wave  won  through  to  the  edge  of  the  wood 
and  immediately  flung  themselves  down 
and  dug  in.  A  few  of  the  others  who  were 
nearer  the  wood  than  the  town  scraped  out 
little  hollows  for  themselves  and  stuck 
grimly  where  they  were  when  the  attackers 
were  recalled,  the  officers  realizing  the 
losses  were  beyond  reason  for  the  value  of 
the  objective. 

Neither  officers  nor  men  were  satisfied. 
Private  soldiers  pleaded  with  their  sergeants 
for  another  chance,  and  the  sergeants  in 
turn  besought  their  officers.  The  Penn- 
sylvanians  had  been  assigned  to  a  task  and 


148         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

had  not  performed  it.  That  was  not  the 
Pennsylvania  way.  Furthermore  there  were 
living  and  unwomided  comrades  out  there 
who  could  not  be  left  long  unsupported. 

A  breathing  spell  was  allowed,  and  then 
word  went  down  the  lines  to  "have  another 
go  at  it."  The  men  drew  their  belts 
tighter,  set  their  teeth  grimly  and  plunged 
out  into  the  storm  of  lead  and  steel  once 
more.  It  must  be  remembered  that  all 
this  was  without  adequate  artillery  support, 
for  what  guns  had  reached  the  line  were 
busy  elsewhere,  and  the  others  were  strug- 
gling up  over  ruined  roads. 

Again  on  this  second  attack,  a  handful 
of  men  reached  the  wood  and  filtered  in, 
but  the  attacking  force  was  driven  back. 
It  began  to  seem  as  if  nothing  could  with- 
stand that  torrential  fire  in  force.  Three 
times  more,  making  five  attacks  in  all, 
the  brigade  "went  to  it"  with  undimmed 
spirits,  and  three  times  more  it  was  forced 
back  to  the  comparative  shelter  of  Cour- 
mont. 

Then  headquarters  was  informed,  July 
30th,  that  artillery  had  come  up  and  a 
barrage  would  be  put  on  the  wood. 

"Fine!"  said  the  commander.     "We  will 


THE  CHURCH  OF  RONCHERES  149 

clean  that  place  up  at  2.30  o'clock  this 
afternoon." 

And  that  is  exactly  what  they  did.  The 
guns  laid  down  a  barrage  that  not  only 
drove  the  Germans  into  their  shelters,  but 
opened  up  holes  in  the  near  side  of  the 
wood  and  through  the  wire.  The  scattered 
few  of  the  Pennsylvanians  who  still  clung 
to  their  places  just  within  the  first  fringe 
of  woodland  made  themselves  as  small  as 
possible,  hugging  the  ground  and  the  boles 
of  the  largest  trees  they  could  find.  De- 
spite their  best  endeavors,  however,  it  was 
a  terrible  experience  to  have  to  undergo 
that  terrific  cannonading  from  their  own 
guns. 

Finally,  the  barrage  lifted  and  the  regi- 
ments went  out  once  more  for  the  sixth 
assault  on  the  Bois  de  Grimpettes.  The 
big  guns  had  lent  just  the  necessary  added 
weight  to  carry  them  across.  The  Germans 
flung  themselves  from  their  dugouts  and 
oflPered  what  resistance  they  could,  but  the 
first  wave  of  thoroughly  mad,  yelling, 
excited  Americans  was  on  them  before 
they  got  well  started  with  their  machine 
gun  reception. 

Our  men  went  through  Grimpettes  Wood 


150         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

"like  a  knife  through  butter"  as  one  officer 
expressed  it  later.  It  was  man  against 
man,  rifle  and  bayonet  against  machine 
gun  and  one-pounder,  and  the  best  men 
won.  Some  prisoners  were  sent  back,  but 
the  burial  squads  laid  away  more  than 
400  German  bodies  in  Grimpettes.  The 
American  loss  in  cleaning  up  the  wood  was 
hardly  a  tithe  of  that.  It  was  a  heroic 
and  gallant  bit  of  work,  typical  of  the  dash 
and  spirit  of  our  men. 

After  the  first  attack  on  Grimpettes 
Wood  had  failed.  First  Sergeant  William 
G.  Meighan,  of  Waynesburg,  Pa.,  Com- 
pany K,  llOtli  Infantry,  in  the  lead  of  his 
company,  was  left  behind  when  the  recall 
was  sounded.  He  had  flung  himself  into 
a  shell-hole,  in  the  bottom  of  which  water 
had  collected.  The  machine  gun  fire  of 
the  Germans  was  low  enough  to  "cut  the 
daisies,"  as  the  men  remarked.  Therefore, 
there  was  no  possibility  of  crawling  back 
to  the  lines.  The  water  in  the  hole  in 
which  he  had  sought  shelter  attracted  all 
the  gas  in  the  vicinity,  for  Fritz  was  mixing 
gas  shells  with  his  shrapnel  and  high 
explosives. 

The  German  machine  gunners  had  seen 


THE  CHURCH  OF  RONCHERES  151 

the  few  Americans  who  remained  on  the 
field,  hiding  in  shell  holes,  and  they  kept 
their  machine  guns  spraying  over  those 
nests.  Other  men  had  to  don  their  gas 
masks  when  the  gas  shells  came  over,  but 
none  had  to  undergo  what  Sergeant 
Meighan  did. 

It  is  impossible  to  talk  intelligibly  or 
to  smoke  inside  a  gas  mask.  A  stiflP 
clamp  is  fixed  over  the  nose  and  every 
breath  must  be  taken  through  the  mouth. 
Soldiers  adjust  their  masks  only  when 
certain  that  gas  is  about.  They  dread  gas 
more  than  anything  else  the  German  has 
to  offer,  more  than  any  other  single  thing  in 
the  whole  category  of  horrors  with  which  the 
Kaiser  distinguished  this  war  from  all 
other  wars  in  the  world's  history.  Yet  the 
discomfort  of  the  gas  mask,  improved  as  the 
present  model  is  over  the  device  that  first 
intervened  between  England's  doughty  men 
and  a  terrible  death  is  such  that  it  is  donned 
only  in  dire  necessity.  Soldiers  hate  the 
gas  mask  intolerably,  but  they  hate  gas 
even  more. 

So  Sergeant  Meighan,  hearing  the  pecu- 
liar sound  by  which  soldiers  identify  a  gas 
shell  from  all  others,  slipped  on  his  mask. 


152         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

It  never  is  easy  to  adjust,  and  he  got  a 
taste  of  the  poison  before  his  mask  was 
secure — ^just  enough  to  make  him  feel 
rather  faint  and  ill.  He  knew  that  if  his 
mask  slipped  to  one  side,  if  only  enough  to 
give  him  one  breath  of  the  outer  air,  he 
would  suffer  torture,  probably  die.  He 
knew  that  if  he  wriggled  out  of  his  hole  in 
the  ground,  however  inconspicuous  he  made 
himself,  he  would  be  cut  to  ribbons  by 
machine  gun  bullets.  So  he  simply  dug  a 
little  deeper  and  waited. 

If  this  seems  like  a  trifling  thing,  just 
try  one  of  the  gas  respirators  in  use  in 
the  army.  If  one  is  not  available,  try  hold- 
ing your  nose  and  breathing  only  through 
your  mouth.  When  you  have  discovered 
how  unpleasant  this  can  be,  try  to  imagine 
every  breath  through  the  mouth  is  impreg- 
nated with  the  chemicals  that  neutralize 
the  gas,  thus  adding  to  the  difficulty  of 
breathing,  yet  insuring  a  continuance  of 
life. 

And  remember  that  Sergeant  Meighan 
did  that  for  fifteen  hours.  And  then  ask 
yourself  if  "hero"  is  an  abused  word  when 
applied  to  a  man  like  that. 

Furthermore,  when  in  a  later  attack  on 


THE  CHURCH  OF  RONCHERES  153 

the  wood,  Company  K  reached  the  point 
where  Sergeant  Meighan  was  concealed,  he 
discovered  in  a  flash  that  the  last  oiOficer  of 
the  first  wave  had  fallen  before  his  shelter 
was  reached.  Being  next  in  rank,  he 
promptly  signaled  to  the  men  that  he 
would  assume  command,  and  led, them  in  a 
gallant  assault  on  the  enemy  position. 

There  were  other  men  in  the  109th  and 
110th  regiments  who  displayed  a  marked 
spirit  of  gallantry  and  sacrifice,  which  by 
no  means  was  confined  to  enlisted  men. 
Lieutenant  Richard  Stockton  Bullitt,  of 
Torresdale,  an  officer  of  Company  K,  110th, 
was  struck  in  the  thigh  by  a  machine  gun 
bullet  in  one  of  the  first  attacks. 

He  was  unable  to  walk,  but  saw,  about 
a  hundred  yards  away,  an  automatic  rifle, 
which  was  out  of  commission  because  the 
corporal  in  charge  of  the  rifle  squad  had 
been  killed  and  the  other  men  could  not 
operate  the  gun.  Lieutenant  Bullitt,  mem- 
ber of  an  old  and  distinguished  Philadelphia 
family,  crawled  to  the  rifle,  dragging  his 
wounded  leg.  He  took  command  and 
continued  firing  the  rifle. 

Five  more  bullets  struck  him  in  different 
places  in  a  short  time,  but  he  shook  his 


154         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

head  defiantly,  waved  away  stretcher 
bearers  who  wanted  to  take  him  to  the 
rear,  and  pumped  the  gun  steadily.  Finally 
another  bullet  struck  him  squarely  in  the 
forehead  and  killed  him. 

After  the  wood  was  completely  in  our 
hands,  a  little  column  was  observed  moving 
slowly  across  the  open  space  toward  Cour- 
mont.  When  it  got  close  enough  it  was 
seen  to  consist  entirely  of  unarmed  Ger- 
mans, apparently.  Staff  officers  were  just 
beginning  to  fume  and  fuss  about  the 
ridiculousness  of  sending  a  party  of  prisoners 
back  unguarded,  when  they  discovered  a 
very  dusty  and  very  disheveled  American 
officer  bringing  up  the  rear  with  a  rifle  held 
at  the  "ready."  He  was  Lieutenant  Mar- 
shall S.  Barron,  Latrobe,  Pa.,  of  Company 
M,  1 1 0th.  There  were  sixty-seven  prisoners 
in  his  convoy,  and  most  of  them  he  had 
taken  personally. 

That  night  the  regimental  headquarters 
of  the  110th  was  moved  to  Courmont,  only 
700  yards  behind  the  wood  that  had  been 
so  desperately  fought  for. 

"We'll  work  out  tomorrow's  plans,"  said 
Major  Martin,  and  summoned  his  staff 
officers  about  him.      They  were  bending 


THE  CHURCH  OF  RONCHERES  155 

over  a  big  table,  studying  the  maps, 
when  a  six-inch  shell  struck  the  head- 
quarters building  squarely.  Twenty-two 
enlisted  men  and  several  officers  were 
injured.  Major  Martin,  Captain  John  D. 
Hitchman,  Mt.  Pleasant,  Pa.,  the  regi- 
mental adjutant;  Lieutenant  Alexander, 
the  intelligence  officer,  and  Lieutenant 
Albert  G.  Braden,  of  Washington,  Pa.,  were 
knocked  about  somewhat,  but  not  injured. 

For  the  second  time  within  a  few  days. 
Lieutenant  Alexander  flirted  with  death. 
The  first  time  he  was  blown  through  an 
open  doorway  into  the  road  by  the  explosion 
of  a  shell  that  killed  two  German  officers, 
who  were  facing  him,  men  he  was  examining. 

This  time,  when  the  headquarters  at 
Courmont  was  blown  up,  he  was  examining 
a  German  captain  and  a  sergeant,  the  other 
officers  making  use  of  the  answers  of  the 
prisoners  in  studying  the  maps  and  trying 
to  determine  the  disposition  of  the  enemy 
forces.  Almost  exactly  the  same  thing 
happened  again  to  Lieutenant  Alexander. 
Both  prisoners  were  killed,  and  he  was 
blown  out  of  the  building  uninjured. 

"Getting  to  be  a  habit  with  you,"  said 
Major  Martin. 


156         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

"This  is  the  life,"  said  Lieutenant  Alex- 
ander. 

**  Fritz  hasn't  got  a  shell  with  Lieutenant 
Alexander's  number  on  it,"  said  the  men  in 
the  ranks. 

The  shell  that  demolished  the  regimental 
headquarters  was  only  one  of  thousands 
with  which  the  Boche  raked  our  lines  and 
back  areas.  As  soon  as  American  occu- 
pancy of  Bois  de  Grimpettes  had  been 
established  definitely  the  Hun  turned  loose 
an  artillery  "hate"  that  made  life  mis- 
erable for  the  Pennsylvanians.  In  the 
110th  alone  there  were  twenty-two  deaths 
and  a  total  of  102  casualties. 


CHAPTER  X 

At  Grips  With  Death 

THE  village  of  Sergy,  just  north  of 
Grimpettes  Wood,  threatened  to  be 
a  hard  nut  to  crack.  The  109th 
Infantry  was  sent  away  to  the  west  to 
flank  the  town  from  that  direction,  and 
the  110th  co-operated  with  regiments  of 
other  divisions  in  the  direct  assault. 

The  utter  razing  of  Epieds  and  other 
towns  above  the  Marne  by  artillery  fire, 
in  order  to  blast  the  Germans  out  of  their 
strongholds,  led  to  a  decision  to  avoid  such 
destructive  methods  wherever  possible,  and 
the  taking  of  Sergy  was  almost  entirely  an 
infantry  and  machine  gun  battle. 

It  was  marked,  as  so  many  other  of  the 
Pennsylvanians'  fights  were,  by  the  "never- 
say-die"  spirit  that  refused  to  know  defeat. 
There  was  something  unconquerable  about 
the  terrible  persistence  of  the  Americans 
that  seemed  to  daunt  the  Germans. 

The  American  forces  swept  into  the 
town    and    drove   the   enemy   slowly   and 

(157) 


158         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

reluctantly  out  to  the  north.  The  usual 
groups  of  Huns  were  still  in  hiding  in 
cellars  and  dugouts  and  other  strong 
points,  where  they  were  able  to  keep  up 
a  sniping  fire  on  our  men. 

Before  the  positions  could  be  mopped 
up  and  organized,  the  Germans  were 
strengthened  by  fresh  forces,  and  they 
reorganized  and  took  the  town  again.  Four 
times  this  contest  of  attack  and  counter- 
attack was  carried  out  before  our  men 
established  themselves  in  sufficient  force 
to  hold  the  place.  Repeatedly  the  Germans 
strove  to  obtain  a  foothold  again,  but  their 
hold  on  Sergy  was  gone  forever.  They 
realized  this  at  last,  and  then  turned  loose 
the  customary  sullen  shelling  with  shrapnel, 
high  explosives  and  gas. 

While  the  110th  was  engaged  in  this 
grim  work,  the  109th  recrossed  the  Ourcq, 
marched  away  down  the  south  bank  to 
the  west  of  Sergy,  and  crossed  the  river 
again.  Officers,  feeling  almost  at  the  end 
of  their  physical  resources,  marvelled  at 
the  way  in  which  the  regiment — ^blooded, 
steady  and  dependable — swung  along  on 
this  march. 

Like   all    the    other   Pennsylvania   regi- 


AT  GRIPS  WITH  DEATH      159 

ments,  food  had  been  scarce  with  them 
because  of  the  pace  at  which  they  had 
been  going  and  the  utter  inability  of  the 
commissary  to  supply  them  regularly  in 
the  circumstances.  When  opportunity  of- 
fered, they  got  a  substantial  meal,  but 
these  were  few  and  far  between.  There 
were  innumerable  instances  of  men  going 
forty-eight  hours  without  either  food  or 
water.  The  thirst  was  worse  than  the 
hunger,  and  the  longing  for  sleep  was 
almost  overpowering. 

Despite  all  this,  the  two  regiments  set 
off  for  the  conquest  of  Sergy  with  undi- 
minished spirit  and  determination,  and 
the  two  grades  of  men,  commissioned  and 
enlisted,  neither  willing  to  give  up  in  the 
face  of  the  other's  dogged  pertinacity, 
spurred  each  other  on  to  prodigies  of  will- 
power, for  by  this  time  it  was  will-power, 
more  than  actual  physical  endurance,  that 
carried  them  on. 

The  109th  took  position  in  a  wood  just 
northwest  of  Sergy  and  sent  scouts  for- 
ward to  ascertain  the  situation  of  the 
enemy,  only  to  have  them  come  back  with 
word  that  the  town  already  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  110th,  after  a  brilliant  action. 


160         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

The  109th  now  came  to  some  of  the 
most  nerve-trying  hours  it  had  yet  experi- 
enced, though  no  fighting  was  involved. 
A  wood  north  of  Sergy  was  selected  as  an 
abiding  place  for  the  night  and,  watching 
for  a  chance  when  Boche  flyers  were  busy 
elsewhere,  the  regiment  made  its  way  into 
the  shelter  and  prepared  to  get  a  night's 
rest. 

They  had  escaped  the  eyes  of  the  enemy 
airmen  but,  unknown  to  the  oflScers  of  the 
109th,  the  wood  lay  close  to  an  enemy 
ammunition  dump,  which  the  retiring  Huns 
had  not  had  time  to  destroy.  Naturally, 
the  German  artillery  knew  perfectly  the 
location  of  the  dump,  and  sought  to  explode 
it  by  means  of  artillery  fire. 

By  the  time  the  109th,  curious  as  to 
the  marked  attention  they  were  receiving 
from  the  Hun  guns,  discovered  the  dump, 
it  was  too  late  to  seek  other  shelter,  so  all 
they  could  do  was  to  contrive  such  pro- 
tection as  was  possible  and  hug  the  ground, 
expecting  each  succeeding  shell  to  land  in 
the  midst  of  the  dump  and  set  off  an 
explosion  that  probably  would  leave  nothing 
of  the  regiment  but  its  traditions. 

Probably   haK   the   shells   intended   for 


AT  GRIPS  WITH  DEATH      161 

the  ammunition  pile  landed  in  the  woods. 
Dreadful  as  such  a  bombardment  always 
is,  the  men  of  the  109th  fairly  gasped 
with  relief  when  each  screeching  shell 
ended  with  a  bang  among  the  trees,  for 
shells  that  landed  there  were  in  no  danger 
of  exploding  that  heap  of  ammunition. 

The  night  of  strain  and  tension  passed. 
Strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  Boche  gunners 
were  unable  to  reach  the  dump. 

In  the  night  a  staff  officer  from  brigade 
headquarters  had  found  Colonel  Brown 
and  informed  him  that  he  was  to  relinquish 
command  of  the  regiment  to  become 
adjutant  to  the  commandant  of  a  port  of 
debarkation.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Henry 
W.  Coulter,  of  Greensburg,  Pa.,  took  com- 
mand of  the  regiment. 

Colonel  Coulter  is  a  brother  of  Brigadier- 
General  Richard  Coulter,  one  time  com- 
mander of  the  Tenth  Pennsylvania,  later 
commander  of  an  American  port  in  France. 
A  few  days  later.  Colonel  Coulter  was 
wounded  in  the  foot,  and  Colonel  Samuel 
V.  Ham,  a  regular  army  officer,  became 
commander.  As  an  evidence  of  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  the  Pennsylvania  regiments,  the 
109th  had  eight  regimental  commanders  in 


162         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

two  months.  All  except  Colonel  Brown  and 
Colonel  Coulter  were  regular  army  men. 

The  110th  was  relieved,  and  dropped 
back  for  a  rest  of  two  days,  August  1st 
and  2d.  The  men  were  nervous  and 
"fidgety,"  to  quote  one  of  the  officers,  for 
the  first  time  since  their  first  "bath  of 
steel,"  south  of  the  Marne.  Both  nights 
they  were  supposed  to  be  resting  they  were 
shelled  and  bombed  from  the  air  con- 
tinuously, and  both  days  were  put  in  at 
the  "camions  sanitaire,"  or  "delousing 
machines,"  where  each  man  got  a  hot 
bath  and  had  his  clothes  thoroughly  disin- 
fected and  cleaned. 

Thus,  neither  night  nor  day  could  be 
called  restful  by  one  who  was  careful  of 
his  English,  although  the  baths  probably 
did  more  to  bolster  up  the  spirits  of  the 
^men  than  anything  else  that  could  have 
happened  to  them.  Anyway,  when  the 
two-day  period  was  ended  and  the  regiment 
again  set  off  for  the  north,  headed  for  the 
Vesle  and  worse  things  than  any  that  had 
gone  before,  it  marched  away  whistling 
and  singing,  with  apparently  not  a  care 
in  the  world. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  first  of 


AT  GRIPS  WITH  DEATH      163 

the  Pennsylvania  artillery,  one  battalion  of 
the  107th  Regiment,  came  into  the  zone 
of  operations,  and  soon  its  big  guns  began 
to  roar  back  at  the  Germans  in  company 
with  the  French  and  other  American 
artillery. 

The  guns  and  their  crews  had  troubles 
of  their  own  in  forging  to  the  front,  although 
most  of  it  was  of  a  kind  they  could  look 
back  on  later  with  a  laugh,  and  not  the 
soul-trying,  mind-searing  experiences  of  the 
infantry. 

The  roads  that  had  been  so  hard  for  the 
foot  soldiers  to  traverse  were  many  times 
worse  for  the  big  guns.  The  108th,  for 
instance,  at  one  time  was  twelve  hours 
in  covering  eight  miles  of  road. 

When  it  came  to  crossing  the  Marne, 
in  order  to  speed  up  the  crossing,  the  regi- 
ment was  divided,  half  being  sent  farther 
up  the  river.  When  night  fell,  it  was 
learned  that  the  half  that  had  crossed 
lower  down  had  the  field  kitchen  and  no 
rations  and  the  other  half  had  all  the 
rations  and  no  field  kitchen  to  cook  them. 
Other  organizations  came  to  the  rescue  in 
both  instances. 

At  six  o'clock  one  evening,  not  yet  having 


164         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

had  evening  mess,  the  regiment  was  ordered 
to  move  to  another  town,  which  it  reached 
at  nine  o'clock.  Men  and  horses  had  been 
settled  down  for  the  night  by  ten  o'clock 
and,  as  all  was  quiet,  the  officers  went  to 
the  village.  There  they  found  an  inn- 
keeper bemoaning  the  fact  that,  just  as 
he  had  gotten  a  substantial  meal  ready 
for  the  officers  of  another  regiment,  they 
had  been  ordered  away,  and  the  food  was 
all  ready,  with  nobody  to  eat  it. 

The  hungry  officers  looked  over  the 
"spread."  There  was  soup,  fried  chicken, 
cold  ham,  string  beans,  peas,  sweet  pota- 
toes, jam,  bread  and  butter,  and  wine. 
They  assured  the  innkeeper  he  need  worry 
no  further  about  losing  his  food,  and 
promptly  took  their  places  about  the  table. 
The  first  spoonfuls  of  soup  just  were  being 
lifted  when  an  orderly  entered,  bearing 
orders  for  the  regiment  to  move  on  at  once. 
They  were  under  way  again,  the  officers 
still  hungry,  by  11.45  o'clock,  and  marched 
until  6.30  A.  M.,  covering  thirty  kilometres, 
or  more  than  eighteen  miles. 

The  103d  Ammunition  Train  also  had 
come  up  now,  after  experiences  that  pre- 
pared it  somewhat  for  what  was  to  come 


AT  GRIPS  WITH  DEATH     165 

later.  For  instance,  when  delivering  ammu- 
nition to  a  battery  under  heavy  shellfire, 
a  detachment  of  the  train  had  to  cross  a 
small  stream  on  a  little,  flat  bridge,  without 
guard  rails.  A  swing  horse  of  one  of  the 
wagons  became  frightened  when  a  shell 
fell  close  by.  The  horse  shied  and  plunged 
over  the  edge,  wedging  itself  between  the 
bridge  and  a  small  footbridge  alongside. 

The  stream  was  in  a  small  valley,  quite 
open  to  enemy  fire,  and  for  the  company 
to  have  waited  while  the  horse  was  gotten 
out  would  have  been  suicidal.  So  the 
main  body  passed  on  and  the  caisson  crew 
and  drivers,  twelve  men  in  all,  were  left 
to  pry  the  horse  out.  For  three  hours  they 
worked,  patiently  and  persistently,  until 
the  frantic  animal  was  freed. 

They  were  under  continuous  and  venom- 
ous fire  all  the  while.  Shrapnel  cut  the 
tops  of  trees  a  bare  ten  feet  away.  Most 
of  the  time  they  and  the  horses  were  com- 
pelled to  wear  gas  masks,  as  the  Hun  tossed 
over  a  gas  shell  every  once  in  a  while  for 
variety — ^he  was  "mixing  them.'*  The  gas 
hung  long  in  the  valley,  for  it  has  "an 
aflfinity, "  as  the  chemists  say,  for  water,  and 
will  follow  the  course  of  a  stream. 


166         THE  IRON   DIVISION 

High  explosives  "  cr-r-r-umped  "  in  places 
within  two  hundred  feet,  but  the  ammuni- 
tion carriers  never  even  glanced  up  from 
their  work,  nor  hesitated  a  minute.  Just 
before  dawn  they  got  the  horse  free  and 
started  back  for  their  own  lines.  Fifteen 
minutes  later  a  high-explosive  shell  landed 
fairly  on  the  little  bridge  and  blew  it  to  atoms. 

The  103d  Field  Signal  Battalion,  com- 
posed of  companies  chiefly  from  Pittsburgh, 
but  with  members  from  many  other  parts 
of  the  state,  performed  valiant  service  in 
maintaining  lines  of  communication.  Re- 
peatedly, men  of  the  battalion,  commanded 
by  Major  Fred  G.  Miller,  of  Pittsburgh, 
exposed  themselves  daringly  in  a  welter 
of  fire  to  extend  telephone  and  telegraph 
lines,  sometimes  running  them  through 
trees  and  bushes,  again  laying  them  in 
hastily  scooped  out  grooves  in  the  earth. 

Frequently  communication  no  sooner  was 
established  than  a  chance  shell  would 
sever  the  line,  and  the  work  was  to  do  all 
over  again.  With  cool  disregard  of  danger, 
the  signalmen  went  about  their  tasks, 
incurring  all  the  danger  to  be  found  any- 
where— but  without  the  privilege  and  sat- 
isfaction of  fighting  back. 


AT  GRIPS  WITH  DEATH      167 

Under  sniping  rifle  fire,  machine  gun 
and  big  shell  bombardment  and  frequently- 
drenched  with  gas,  the  gallant  signalmen 
carried  their  work  forward.  There  was 
little  of  the  picturesque  about  it,  but 
nothing  in  the  service  was  more  essential. 
Many  of  the  men  were  wounded  and  gassed, 
a  number  killed,  and  several  were  cited 
and  decorated  for  bravery. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Drive  to  the  Vesle 

WHEN  the  Hun  grip  was  torn  loose 
from  the  positions  along  the 
Ourcq,  he  had  no  other  good 
stopping  place  short  of  the  Vesle,  so  he 
lit  out  for  that  river  as  fast  as  he  could 
move  his  battalions  and  equipment.  Again 
only  machine  guns  and  sniping  rearguards 
were  left  to  impede  the  progress  of  the 
pursuers,  and  again  there  were  times  when 
it  was  exceedingly  difficult  for  the  French 
and  American  forces  to  keep  in  contact 
with  the  enemy. 

The  32d  Division,  composed  of  Michigan 
and  Wisconsin  National  Guards,  had  slipped 
into  the  front  lines  and,  with  regiments  of 
the  Rainbow  Division,  pressed  the  pursuit. 
The  Pennsylvania  regiments,  with  the  103d 
Engineers,  and  the  111th  and  the  112th 
Infantry  leading,  followed  by  the  109th 
and  then  the  110th,  went  forward  in  their 
rear,  mopping  up  the  few  Huns  they  left 
in  their  wake  who  still  showed  fight. 
aes) 


DRIVE  TO  THE  VESLE       169 

It  had  begun  to  rain  again — a  heavy, 
dispiriting  downpour,  such  as  Northern 
France  is  subjected  to  frequently.  The 
fields  became  morasses.  The  roads,  cut 
up  by  heavy  traffic,  were  turned  to  quag- 
mires. The  distorted  remains  of  what 
had  been  wonderful  old  trees,  stripped  of 
their  foliage  and  blackened  and  torn  by 
the  breaths  of  monster  guns,  dripped  dis- 
mally. In  all  that  ruined,  tortured  land 
of  horror  on  horror,  there  was  not  one 
bright  spot,  and  there  was  only  one  thing 
to  keep  up  the  spirits  of  the  soldiers — 
the  Hun  was  definitely  on  the  run. 

Drenched  to  the  skin,  wading  in  mud 
at  times  almost  to  their  knees,  amid  the 
ruck  and  confusion  of  an  army's  wake, 
the  Pennsylvanians  trudged  resolutely  for- 
ward, inured  to  hardship,  no  longer  sensible 
to  ordinary  discomforts,  possessed  of  only 
one  thought — to  come  to  battle  once  more 
with  the  hateful  foe  and  inflict  further 
pimishment  in  revenge  for  the  gallant  lads 
who  had  gone  from  the  ranks. 

All  the  time  they  were  subjected  to 
long-distance  shelling  by  the  big  guns, 
as  the  Hun  strafed  the  country  to  the 
south    in    hope    of    hampering    transport 


170         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

facilities  and  breaking  up  marching 
columns.  All  the  time  Boche  fliers  passed 
overhead,  sometimes  swooping  low  enough 
to  slash  at  the  columns  with  machine 
guns  and  at  frequent  intervals  releasing 
bombs.  There  were  casualties  daily,  al- 
though not,  of  course,  on  the  same  scale 
as  in  actual  battle. 

Through  Coulonges,  Cohan,  Dravegny, 
Longeville,  Mont-sur-Courville  and  St. 
Gilles  they  plunged  on  relentlessly. 

Close  by  the  hamlet  of  Chamery,  near 
Cohan,  the  Pennsylvania  men  passed  the 
grave  of  Lieutenant  Quentin  Roosevelt, 
who  had  been  brought  down  there  by  an 
enemy  airman  a  few  weeks  before  and  was 
buried  by  the  Germans.  French  troops, 
leading  the  Allied  pursuit,  had  come  on 
the  grave  first  and  established  a  military 
guard  of  honor  over  it  and  supplanted  the 
rude  cross  and  inscription  erected  by  the 
Germans  with  a  neater  and  more  ornate 
marking. 

When  the  Americans  arrived  the  French 
guard  was  removed  and  American  soldiers 
mounted  guard  over  the  last  resting  place 
of  the  son  of  the  onetime  President. 

Just  below  Longeville,  the  Pennsylvan- 


DRIVE  TO  THE  VESLE       171 

lans  came  into  an  area  where  the  fire 
was  intensified  to  the  equal  of  anything 
they  had  passed  through  since  leaving 
the  Marne.  All  the  varieties  of  Hun  pro- 
jectiles were  hurled  at  them,  high  explo- 
sives of  various  sizes,  shrapnel  and  gas. 
Once  more  the  misery  and  discomfort  of 
the  gas  mask  had  to  be  undergone,  but 
by  this  time  the  Pennsylvanians  had  learned 
well  and  truly  the  value  of  that  little 
piece  of  equipment  and  had  imbibed  thor- 
oughly the  doctrine  that,  unpleasant  as 
it  might  be,  the  mask  was  infinitely  better 
than  a  whiff  of  that  dread,  sneaking,  pene- 
trating vapor  with  which  the  Hun  poisoned 
the  air. 

The  "blonde  beast"  had  his  back  to  the 
Vesle  and  had  turned  to  show  his  teeth 
and  snarl  in  fury  at  our  men  closing  in 
on  him. 

The  objective  point  on  the  river  for  the 
Pennsylvanians  was  Fismes.  This  was  a 
town  near  the  junction  of  the  Vesle  and 
Ardre  rivers,  which  before  the  war  had 
a  population  of  a  little  more  than  3,000. 
Here,  in  centuries  long  gone,  the  kings  of 
France  were  wont  to  halt  overnight  on 
their  way  up  to  Rheims  to  be  crowned. 


172         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

It  was  on  a  railroad  running  through 
Rheims  to  the  east.  A  few  miles  west 
of  Fismes  the  railroad  divides,  one  branch 
winding  away  south  westward  to  Paris  the 
other  running  west  through  Soissons  and 
Compiegne.  The  town  was  one  of  the 
largest  German  munitions  depots  in  the 
Soissons-Rheims  sector  and  second  in  im- 
portance only  to  Soissons. 

Across  the  narrow  river  was  the  vil- 
lage of  Fismette,  destined  to  be  the  scene 
of  the  writing  of  a  truly  glorious  page 
of  Pennsylvania's  military  history.  The 
past  tense  is  used  with  regard  to  the 
existence  of  both  places,  as  they  virtually 
were  wiped  out  in  the  process  of  forcing 
the  Hun  from  the  Vesle  River  barrier 
and  sending  him  flying  northward  to  the 
Aisne. 

The  railroad  through  Fismes  and  in  its 
vicinity  runs  along  the  top  of  an  embank- 
ment, raising  it  above  the  surrounding 
territory.  There  was  a  time,  before  the 
Americans  were  able  to  cross  the  railroad, 
that  the  embankment  became  virtually 
the  barrier  dividing  redeemed  France  from 
darkest  Hunland  along  that  front.  At 
night  patrols  from  both  sides  would  move 


DRIVE  TO  THE  VESLE       173 

forward  to  the  railroad,  and,  burrowed  in 
holes — ^the  Germans  in  the  north  side  and 
the  Americans  in  the  south — ^would  watch 
and  wait  and  listen  for  signs  of  an  attack. 

Each  knew  the  other  was  only  a  few 
feet  away;  at  times,  in  fact,  they  could 
hear  each  other  talking,  and  once  in  a 
while  defiant  badinage  would  be  exchanged 
in  weird  German  from  the  south  and  in 
ragtime,  vaudeville  English  from  the  north. 
Appearance  of  a  head  above  the  embank- 
ment on  either  side  was  a  signal  for  a 
storm  of  lead  and  steel. 

The  Americans  had  this  advantage  over 
the  Germans:  They  knew  the  Huns  were 
doomed  to  continue  their  retreat,  and 
that  the  hold-up  along  the  railroad  was 
very  temporary,  and  the  Germans  now 
realized  the  same  thing.  Therefore,  the 
Americans  fought  triumphantly,  with  vigor 
and  dash;  the  Germans,  sullenly  and  in 
desperation. 

One  man  of  the  110th  went  to  sleep  in 
a  hole  in  the  night  and  did  not  hear  the 
withdrawal  just  before  dawn.  Obviously 
his  name  could  not  be  made  public.  When 
he  woke  it  was  broad  daylight,  and  he 
was  only  partly  concealed  by  a  little  hole 


174         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

in  the  railroad  bank.  There  was  nothing 
he  could  do.  If  he  had  tried  to  run  for 
his  regimental  lines  he  would  have  been 
drilled  like  a  sieve  before  he  had  gone 
fifty  yards.  Soon  the  German  batteries 
would  begin  shelling,  so  he  simply  dug 
deeper  into  the  embankment. 

"I  just  drove  myself  into  that  bank  like 
a  nail,"  he  told  his  comrades  later.  He 
got  away  the  next  night. 

Richard  Morse,  of  the  110th,  whose 
home  is  in  Harrisburg,  went  out  with  a 
raiding  party.  The  Germans  discovered 
the  advance  of  the  group  and  opened  a 
concentrated  fire,  forcing  them  back. 
Morse  was  struck  in  the  leg  and  fell. 
He  was  able  to  crawl,  however,  and  crawl- 
ing was  all  he  could  have  done  anyway, 
because  the  only  line  of  retreat  open  to 
him  was  being  swept  by  a  hail  of  machine 
gun  bullets.  As  he  crawled  he  was  hit  by 
a  second  bullet.  Then  a  third  one  creased 
the  muscles  of  his  back.  A  few  feet  farther, 
and  two  more  struck  him,  making  five  in  all. 

Theti  he  tumbled  into  a  shell  hole.  He 
waited  until  the  threshing  fire  veered  from 
his  vicinity  and  he  had  regained  a  little 
strength,    then    crawled    to    another    hole 


DRIVE  TO  THE  VESLE       175 

and  flopped  himself  into  that.  Incredible 
as  it  may  seem,  he  regained  his  own  lines 
the  fourth  day  by  crawling  from  shell 
hole  to  shell  hole,  and  started  back  to  the 
hospital  with  every  prospect  of  a  quick 
recovery.  He  had  been  given  up  for 
dead,  and  the  men  of  his  own  and  neigh- 
boring companies  gave  him  a  rousing  wel- 
come. He  had  nothing  to  eat  during 
those  four  days,  but  had  found  an  empty 
tin  can,  and  when  it  rained  caught  enough 
water  in  that  to  assuage  his  thirst. 

Corporal  George  D.  Hyde,  of  Mt. 
Pleasant,  Company  E,  110th,  hid  in  a 
hole  in  the  side  of  the  railroad  embank- 
ment for  thirty-six  hours  on  the  chance  of 
obtaining  valuable  information.  \Mien  re- 
turning, a  piece  of  shrapnel  struck  the 
pouch  in  which  he  carried  his  grenades. 
Examining  them,  he  found  the  cap  of 
one  driven  well  in.  It  was  a  miracle 
it  had  not  exploded  and  torn  a  hole  through 
him. 

"You  ought  to  have  seen  me  throw  that 
grenade  away,"  he  said. 

In  this  waiting  time  it  was  decided  to 
clean  up  a  position  of  the  enemy  that  was 
thrust  out  beyond  their  general  line,  from 


176         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

which  an  annoying  fire  was  kept  up  con- 
stantly. Accordingly,  a  battalion  of  the 
110th  was  sent  over  to  wipe  it  out. 

The  Rev.  Mandeville  J.  Barker,  rector 
of  the  Episcopal  Church  in  Uniontown, 
Pa.,  is  chaplain  of  the  llCth,  with  the 
rank  of  first  lieutenant.  He  had  endeared 
himself  to  officers  and  men  alike  by  his 
happy  combination  of  buoyant,  gallant 
cheerfulness,  sturdy  Americanism,  deep 
Christianity,  indifference  to  hardship  and 
the  tender  care  he  gave  to  the  wounded. 
He  had  become,  indeed,  the  most  beloved 
man  in  the  regiment. 

He  went  over  the  top  with  the  battalion 
that  attacked  by  night  on  the  heights  of 
the  Vesle.  It  was  not  his  duty  to  go;  in 
fact  had  the  regimental  commander  known 
his  intention,  he  probably  would  have 
been  forbidden  to  go.  But  go  he  did. 
He  had  an  idea  that  his  job  was  to  look 
after  the  men's  bodies  as  well  as  their 
souls,  and  when  there  was  stern  fighting 
to  do,  he  liked  to  be  in  a  position  where 
he  could  attend  to  both  phases  of  his  work. 

The  attacking  party  wiped  out  the  Hun 
machine  gun  nest  after  a  sharp  fight 
and   then   retired   to   their   own   lines,   as 


DRIVE  TO  THE  VESLE       177 

ordered.  It  was  so  dark  that  some  of 
the  wounded  were  overlooked.  After  the 
battalion  returned,  voices  of  American 
wounded  could  be  heard  out  in  that  new 
No  Man's  Land,  calling  for  help.  Dr. 
Barker  took  his  life  and  some  first  aid 
equipment  and  water  in  his  two  hands 
and  slipped  out  into  the  dark,  with  only 
starshine  and  the  voices  of  the  wounded 
to  guide  him  and,  between  the  two  armies, 
attended  to  the  wounds  of  the  men  as 
best  he  could  by  the  light  of  a  small  pocket 
torch,  which  he  had  to  keep  concealed 
from  the  enemy  lookouts. 

One  after  another  the  clergyman  hunted. 
Those  who  could  walk  he  started  back  to 
the  lines.  Several  he  had  to  assist.  One 
lad  who  was  beyond  help  he  sat  beside 
and  ministered  to  with  the  tenderness 
of  a  mother  until  the  young  soul  struggled 
gropingly  out  into  the  Great  Beyond. 
Then,  with  the  tears  rolling  down  his 
cheeks,  the  beloved  "Sky  Pilot"  started  back. 

But  again  the  sound  of  a  voice  in  agony 
halted  him.  This  time,  however,  it  was 
not  English  words  that  he  heard,  but  a 
moaning  petition  in  guttural  German: 
"Ach    Gott!       Ach,    mein    lieber    Gott!" 

12 


178         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

The  men  of  the  110th  loved  their  "par- 
son" even  more  for  what  he  did  then. 
He  turned  right  about  and  went  back, 
groping  in  the  dark  for  the  sobbing  man. 
He  found  a  curly-haired  young  German, 
wounded  so  he  could  not  walk  and  in 
mortal  terror,  not  of  death  or  of  the  dark, 
but  of  those  '*  terrible  Americans  who  tor- 
ture and  kill  their  prisoners."  Such  was 
the  tale  with  which  he  and  his  comrades 
had  been  taught  to  loathe  their  American 
enemies.  Dr.  Barker  treated  his  wounds 
and  carried  him  back  to  the  American 
lines.  The  youngster  whimpered  with  fear 
when  he  found  where  he  was  going,  and 
begged  the  clergyman  not  to  leave  him. 
When  he  finally  was  convinced  that  he 
would  not  be  harmed,  he  kissed  the  chap- 
lain's hands,  crying  over  them,  and  insisted 
on  turning  over  to  Dr.  Barker  every- 
thing he  owned  that  could  be  loosened — 
helmet,  pistol,  bayonet,  cartridges,  but- 
tons, and  other  odds  and  ends. 

"All  hung  over  with  loot,  the  parson 
was,  when  he  came  back,"  said  a  ser- 
geant  in   telling   of   the   scene   afterward. 

"The  Fighting  Parson,"  as  the  men 
called   him,    did   not   fight,    actually,    but 


DRIVE  TO  THE  VESLE       179 

he  went  as  close  to  it  as  possible.  On  one 
occasion  snipers  were  bothering  the  men. 
Dr.  Barker  borrowed  a  pair  of  glasses, 
lay  flat  on  the  field  and,  after  prolonged 
study,  discovered  the  offenders,  four  of 
them,  and  notified  an  artillery  observer. 
A  big  gun  casually  swung  its  snout  around, 
barked  three  times  and  the  snipers  sniped 
no  more.  Two  or  three  days  later,  the 
regiment  went  over  and  took  that  section 
of  German  line  and  found  what  was  left 
of  the  four  men.  "The  Parson's  Boche," 
the  men  called  them. 

Toward  the  last  of  the  action  below 
the  Vesle,  a  group  of  men  of  the  110th 
had  established  an  outpost  in  a  large 
cave,  which  extended  a  considerable  dis- 
tance back  in  a  cliff — ^just  how  far  none 
of  the  men  ever  discovered.  After  they 
had  been  there  several  days,  Dr.  Barker 
arranged  to  cheer  them  a  little  in  their 
lonely  vigil.  The  cave  had  been  an  under- 
ground quarry.  The  Germans  had  occupied 
it,  knew  exactly  where  it  was  and  its 
value  as  a  hiding  place,  and  kept  a  con- 
stant stream  of  machine  gun  bullets  flying 
past  its  mouth. 

For  three   weeks   it  had   been   possible 


180         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

to  enter  or  leave  the  cave  only  after  dark. 
Even  then  it  was  risky,  for  the  mouth 
of  the  cave  was  only  about  fifty  yards 
from  the  German  trenches  and  slight  sounds 
could  be  heard.  After  dark  the  Hun  fire 
was  laid  down  about  the  entrance  at  every 
suspicious  noise.  Sometimes  the  men  inside 
would  amuse  themselves  by  heaving  stones 
outside  from  a  safe  position  within,  to  hear 
Fritz  turn  loose  his  "pepper  boxes." 

Despite  these  difficulties.  Dr.  Barker 
got  a  motion  picture  outfit  into  the  cave 
and  gav(e  a  show  of  six  reels  to  the  men 
stationed  there,  after  which  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
men  entertained  them  with  songs  and 
eccentric  dances.  Men  who  saw  that 
performance,  in  the  light  of  torches  and 
flambeaux,  will  never  forget  the  picture. 

Toward  the  last  there  were  sounds  from 
the  farther  interior  of  the  cave,  and  two 
American  soldiers  walked  into  the  circle, 
blinking  their  eyes.  Nobody  gave  much 
attention  to  them,  supposing  they  just 
had  wandered  away  a  few  minutes  before, 
until  one  of  them  interrupted  a  song  with 
the  hoarsely  whispered  query : 

"Got  any  chow.^*"  Which  is  army  slang 
for  food. 


DRIVE  TO  THE  VESLE       181 

**Aw,  go  lay  down,'*  was  the  querulous 
reply  of  the  man  addressed.  "Ain't  yuh 
got  sense  enough  not  to  interrupt  a  show? 
Shut  up,  will  yuh?" 

"  Gee,  but  I'm  hungry,"  came  the  answer. 
"I  need  some  chow.  We  been  lost  in  this 
doggone  cave  for  two  days." 

Investigation  developed  that  he  was 
telling  the  truth,  and  Dr.  Barker  pro- 
duced from  some  mysterious  horn  of 
plenty  some  chocolate,  which  the  fam- 
ished men  ate  with  avidity.  With  the 
natural,  healthy  curiosity  of  American 
youth,  they  had  set  out  to  explore  the 
cave  and  had  become  lost  in  its  mazes. 
Only  the  lights  and  noises  of  Dr.  Barker's 
concert  had  led  them  out. 

An  instance  of  the  attitude  of  mind  of 
the  Pennsylvania  men,  who  felt  nothing 
but  contempt  for  their  foes,  and  of  how 
little  the  arrogance  and  intolerance  of 
the  typical  Prussian  oflficer  impressed  them, 
was  given  by  members  of  the  111th  Ambu- 
lance Company,  working  with  the  111th 
Infantry. 

Soldiers  of  Pennsylvania  Dutch  descent 
had  amazed  the  Germans  more  than  once 
not  only  by  understanding  the  conversa- 


182         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

tion  of  the  enemy,  but  by  their  intense 
anger,  almost  ferocity,  which  they  dis- 
played on  occasions  when  confronted  with 
"the  Intolerable  Thing"  called  the  Prussian 
spirit.  Offspring  of  men  and  women  of 
sturdy,  free-minded  stock  who  fled  from 
oppression  in  Europe,  they  flamed  with 
the  spirit  of  the  real  liberty  lover  when 
in  contact  with  the  Prussian. 

A  little  group  of  the  lllth's  ambulan- 
ciers  when  carrying  back  the  wounded, 
met  a  German  major  who  was  groaning 
and  complaining  vigorously  and  demand- 
ing instant  attention.  The  contrast  be- 
tween his  conduct  and  that  of  American 
officers,  who  almost  invariably  told  the 
litter-bearers  to  go  on  and  pick  up  worse 
wounded  men,  was  glaring,  but  finally 
the  bearers  good-humoredly  decided  to  get 
the  major  out  of  the  way  to  stop  his  noise. 
He  was  not  wounded  severely,  but  was 
unable  to  walk,  and  they  lifted  him  to 
the  stretcher  with  the  same  care  they 
gave  to  all  the  wounded. 

Promptly  the  major  began  to  upbraid 
the  Americans,  speaking  in  his  native 
tongue.  In  the  language  of  a  Billingsgate 
fishwife — or   what   corresponds   to   one   in 


DRIVE  TO  THE  VESLE       183 

Hunland — he  cursed  the  Americans,  root, 
stock  and  branch,  from  President  Wilson 
down  to  the  newest  recruit  in  the  army. 

Thomas  G.  Fox,  of  Hummelstown,  Pa., 
one  of  the  bearers,  understood  his  every 
word  and  repeated  the  diatribe  in  English 
to  his  fellows,  who  became  restive  under 
the  tirade.     At  last  the  major  said: 

"You  Americans  think  you  are  going 
to  win  the  war,  but  you're  not." 

That  was  too  much  for  Fox  and  his 
companions. 

"You  think  you  are  going  to  be  carried 
back  to  a  hospital,  but  you're  not,"  said 
Fox.  Whereupon  the  litter  was  turned 
over  neatly  and  the  major  deposited,  not 
too  gently,  on  the  hard  ground.  For  some 
time  he  lay  there,  roaring  his  maledic- 
tions. Then  he  started  to  crawl  back, 
and  by  the  time  he  got  to  a  hospital, 
he  had  lost  some  of  his  insolence. 


CHAPTER  XII 
In  Death  Valley 

HUN  infantry  in  considerable  force 
held  Fismes.  Their  big  guns  had 
been  moved  across  the  Vesle,  tacit 
admission  they  had  no  hope  of  holding  the 
south  bank  of  the  river,  but  the  strength  of 
the  force  in  the  town  indicated  the  cus- 
tomary intention  to  sell  out  as  dearly  as 
possible  to  their  dogged  and  unfaltering 
pursuers. 

Lying  in  the  woods,  or  whatever  other 
shelter  they  could  find,  our  infantrymen  for 
two  days  watched  French  and  American 
batteries  moving  into  position.  It  seemed 
the  procession  was  interminable. 

"There'll  be  something  doing  for  Fritz 
when  those  babies  get  going,"  was  the 
opinion  of  the  Pennsylvania  doughboys. 

French  and  American  forces  already  had 
crossed  the  river  east  and  west  of  Fismes, 
which  was  almost  the  geographic  center  of 
the  line  between  Soissons  and  Rheims.  To 
stabilize  the  line,  it  was  essential  not  only 

(184) 


IN  DEATH  VALLEY  185 

that  Fismes  be  taken,  but  that  the  river 
crossings  be  forced  and  Fismette  seized. 

Forward  bodies  of  infantry  continually- 
had  been  feeling  out  the  German  positions 
in  Fismes  and  on  Saturday  afternoon, 
August  3rd,  reconnaissance  parties  from  the 
168th  Infantry,  formerly  the  Third  Iowa 
National  Guard,  of  the  Rainbow  Division, 
entered  the  southern  edge  of  the  town. 

They  clung  there  desperately  until  the 
next  day,  but  the  Germans  deluged  them 
with  gas,  which  hung  close  because  of  the 
river  and  the  heavy  atmosphere,  and  it 
was  deemed  inadvisable  for  the  small  force 
to  remain.  Their  reconnaissance  had  been 
completed  and  they  were  ordered  to  return 
to  their  lines.  The  information  they 
brought  back  aided  the  staff  materially  in 
planning  the  general  attack. 

The  Germans  had  placed  heavy  guns  on 
the  crests  of  hills  one  or  two  kilometers 
north  of  the  river,  from  which  they  poured 
in  a  flanking  fire. 

A  few  hours  after  the  return  of  the  men 
of  the  168th,  the  massed  French  and  Ameri- 
can batteries  turned  loose  with  a  racket 
that  seemed  to  rend  the  universe. 

The  Germans  had  been  dropping  shells 


186         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

intermittently  since  daylight,  but  even 
this  spasmodic  firing  stopped  entirely  under 
the  hurricane  of  shrapnel,  high  explosive 
and  gas  shells  from  the  Allied  artillery, 
which  swept  the  town,  the  river  crossings 
and  the  country  to  the  north.  It  was  a 
case  of  "keep  your  head  down,  Fritzie 
boy,"  or  lose  it. 

The  artillery  preparation  was  not  pro- 
tracted. After  an  hour  or  so,  it  steadied 
down  into  a  rolling  barrage  and  the  first 
wave  of  attackers  went  over.  The  32d 
and  42d  (Rainbow)  Divisions,  exhausted, 
had  been  brought  out  of  the  front  line  and 
Pennsylvania's  iron  men  slipped  into  place. 

It  fell  to  the  fortune  of  the  112th  Infantry 
to  lead  the  advance  on  Fismes  and,  sup- 
ported though  it  was  by  other  regiments  and 
by  tremendous  artillery  fire,  it  was  the  112th 
Pennsylvania    that   actually  took  Fismes. 

There  was  the  usual  harassing  fire  from 
enemy  machine  guns  and  snipers,  especially 
to  the  east,  but  these  were  silenced  after  a 
time  and  the  112th  romped  into  the  south- 
ern edge  of  the  town.  Then  ensued  a 
repetition,  on  a  larger  scale,  of  the  street 
and  house  fighting  that  had  been  experi- 
enced before  in  other  villages  and  towns. 


IN  DEATH  VALLEY  187 

Scouts  crept  from  corner  to  corner,  hiding 
behind  bits  of  smashed  masonry,  working 
through  holes  in  house  walls  and  into 
cellars.  A  haze  of  dust  kicked  up  by  the 
shells  hung  in  the  bright  sunlight. 

Every  open  stretch  of  street  was  swept 
by  rifle  and  machine  gun  fire  from  one  or 
both  sides.  Americans  and  Germans  were 
so  mingled  that  sometimes  they  shared  the 
same  house,  firing  out  of  different  windows 
on  different  streets,  and  varying  the  pro- 
cedure by  attempts  to  kill  their  housemates. 

As  the  Americans  crept  slowly  forward, 
always  toward  the  river,  the  Germans 
showed  no  slightest  inclination  to  follow 
their  comrades  to  the  north  bank,  and  it 
became  apparent  that  they  were  a  sacrifice 
offered  up  by  the  German  command  to 
delay,  as  long  as  possible,  the  progress  of 
those  terrible  Americans.  They  had  been 
left  behind  with  no  hope  of  succor,  simply 
to  sell  their  lives  as  dearly  as  possible. 
Quite  naturally,  they  fought  like  trapped 
wolves  as  long  as  fighting  was  possible. 
When  convinced  they  had  no  further  chance 
to  win,  they  dropped  their  weapons  and 
squalled:  "Kamerad!" 

Two  American  officers  and  some  wounded 


188         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

men  worked  their  way  into  one  of  the 
houses.  Inside,  they  found  two  unwounded 
men  from  Pittsburgh.  Ahnost  as  the  two 
parties  joined  forces,  one  of  the  unwounded 
Pittsburghers,  venturing  incautiously  near 
what  had  been  a  window,  stopped  a  sniper's 
bullet  and  fell  dead.  The  wounded  were 
made  as  comfortable  as  possible  to  await 
the  stretcher-bearers  and  the  two  officers 
and  one  enlisted  man  started  to  investigate 
the  house. 

They  were  crawling  on  all  fours.  They 
came  into  a  dismantled  room  and  raised 
their  heads  to  look  over  a  pile  of  debris. 
They  looked  straight  into  the  eyes  of  two 
Germans.  One  had  a  machine  gun,  the 
other  a  trench  bomb  in  each  hand.  These 
German  trench  bombs  were  known  among 
our  soldiers  as  "potato  mashers,"  because 
they  are  about  the  size  of  a  can  of  sweet 
corn,  fastened  on  the  end  of  a  short  stick. 
They  are  thrown  by  the  stick,  and  are  a 
particularly  nasty  weapon — one  of  the  worst 
the  Germans  had,  many  soldiers  thought. 

The  German  with  the  bombs  was  slowly 
whirling  them  about  by  the  handles, 
exactly  like  a  pair  of  Indian  clubs,  as  one 
of  the  Americans  described  it  afterward. 


IN  DEATH  VALLEY  189 

For  the  time  you  might  have  counted  ten, 
there  was  not  a  movement  on  either  side, 
because  the  men  were  so  surprised,  except 
that  the  German  with  the  bombs  kept 
whirling  them  slowly,  around  and  around. 
The  other  German  stood  like  a  statue,  but 
making  funny,  nervous  noises — "uck-uck- 
uck" — ^in  his  throat.  The  Americans,  tell- 
ing about  it  later,  frankly  admitted  they 
were  too  scared  to  move  for  a  few  moments, 
expecting  every  second  the  man  with  the 
"potato  mashers"  would  throw  them. 

The  remarkable  tableau  ended  with  the 
crash  of  a  rifle.  The  American  private 
soldier  had  fired  "from  the  hip."  The 
German  with  the  bombs  bent  forward  as 
if  he  had  a  sharp  pain  in  his  stomach,  but  he 
did  not  come  up  again.  He  kept  on  going 
until  his  head  hit  the  pile  of  debris,  as  if  he 
were  salaaming  or  kowtowing  to  the  Ameri- 
cans. Then  he  collapsed  in  an  inert  heap 
on  the  floor,  still  holding  his  bombs. 

The  other  turned  and  ran,  stumbling 
through  the  wreckage,  out  through  the 
little  garden  in  which  flowers  and  green 
stuff  still  struggled  through  the  broken 
stone.  As  he  ran,  he  cried  in  a  curious, 
whimpering,  mufiled  tone,  like  a  frightened 


190         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

animal,  his  big  helmet  crushed  down  over 
his  ears,  a  grotesque  figure.  He  got  out 
into  the  street,  out  into  the  open  where 
machine  guns  and  rifles  still  called  from 
corner  to  corner  and  window  to  window. 
He  was  drilled  in  a  dozen  places  at  once 
and  collapsed  like  a  heap  of  dusty  rags. 

There  were  innumerable  instances  of 
individual  gallantry  and  of  narrow  escapes. 
In  days  of  fighting  when  virtually  every 
man  performed  a  hero's  part,  it  was  impos- 
sible for  anyone  to  keep  track  of  all  of  even 
the  more  outstanding  cases,  and  many  a 
lad's  deed  went  unnoticed  while  another's 
act  brought  him  a  citation  and  the  coveted 
Distinguished  Service  Cross,  the  difference 
being  that  one  was  observed  and  reported 
and  the  other  was  not.  A  very  small 
proportion  of  the  deserving  deeds  were 
rewarded  for  this  reason. 

Among  the  narrow  escapes  from  death, 
probably  Lieutenant  Walter  A.  Daven- 
port, formerly  of  Philadelphia,  established  a 
record.  A  machine  gun  bullet  struck  his 
belt  buckle,  was  deflected  and  ripped  a 
long  gash  in  the  muscles  of  his  abdo- 
men. He  returned  to  duty  before  his 
regiment,  the   111th,  had  finished  its  work 


IN  DEATH  VALLEY  191 

in  Fismette,  a  few  weeks  later,  and  was 
slightly  gassed. 

It  was  at  Fismes  that  Captain  John  M. 
Gentner,  of  Philadelphia,  acting  commander 
of  the  first  battalion  of  the  109th,  was 
wounded.  He  had  been  commander  of 
Company  C,  but  took  over  command  of 
the  battalion  when  Captain  Gearty  was 
killed  in  the  Bois  de  Conde,  below  the 
Marne.  After  he  was  wounded,  Captain 
Gentner  was  made  the  subject  of  a  remark- 
able tribute  from  men  of  his  battalion. 
They  wrote  for  newspaper  publication  a 
letter  of  eulogy,  in  which  they  said: 

"The  influence  of  Captain  Gentner  is 
still  leading  on  the  men  of  his  battalion. 
None  speak  of  him  but  in  admiration  and 
thankfulness  for  having  helped  them  to 
be  good  soldiers.  Daring,  even  brilliant,  he 
led  his  men  into  seemingly  hazardous 
attacks,  and  yet  we  felt  a  sense  of  safety. 
Other  commanders  say:  *I  wouldn't  send  a 
man  where  I  wouldn't  go  myself,'  but 
Captain  Gentner  wouldn't  send  men  where 
he  would  go  himself.  We  looked  upon  him 
as  a  father.  He  has  brought  in  wounded 
men  from  places  where  no  one  else  would 
Venture.     He  delighted  in  dangerous  patrols 


192         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

and  often  regretted  that  his  position  pre- 
vented him  from  leading  combat  patrols. 
In  places  where  food  came  to  us  rarely  and 
in  small  quantity,  he  would  claim  that  he 
had  eaten  when  we  knew  that  neither  food 
nor  water  had  crossed  his  lips  for  twenty- 
four  hours.  He  was  filled  with  admiration 
for  his  men — ^men  who  willingly  would 
have  followed  him  through  the  gates  of 
hell,  just  because  no  trouble,  no  privation 
was  too  great  for  him  to  make  his  men 
comfortable." 

What  a  difference  between  that  relation- 
ship of  officer  and  enlisted  man,  and  the 
sight  our  men  saw  of  German  soldiers 
being  kicked  and  beaten  with  sabres  by 
German  officers  in  an  effort  to  drive  them 
forward  into  battle  while  the  officers 
remained  behind  out  of  harm's  way ! 

With  their  never-failing  sense  of  the 
dramatic  and  their  natural  tendency  to 
picturesquely  appropriate  nomenclature,  our 
men  named  the  valley  of  the  Vesle  "Death 
Valley"  after  the  desperate  fighting  they 
encountered  there. 

And  so  they  took  Fismes,  these  gallant 
American  daredevils.  Slowly  but  surely 
they  went  through  it,  mopping  it  up  in  a 


IN  DEATH  VALLEY  193 

scientific  manner.  It  was  costly — such 
warfare  always  is — but  they  wiped  out 
one  German  post  after  another,  driving  the 
Huns  to  the  very  edge  of  the  town  on  the 
north,  where  they  held  on  desperately  for  a 
few  days  until  the  American  occupation 
was  complete,  and  the  last  German  foot- 
hold was  gone  from  the  Soissons-Rheims 
pocket,  which  for  two  weeks  had  been  the 
focal  point  for  the  eyes  of  the  world. 

Even  before  the  operation  was  complete, 
and  in  callous  disregard  of  the  men  they 
themselves  had  left  behind  to  impede  the 
American  advance,  the  Germans  cut  loose 
with  a  hot  artillery  fire  from  the  heights 
north  of  the  river. 

They  are  not  unlike  the  chalk  cliffs  of 
Dover,  only  not  so  high,  these  elevations 
along  the  Vesle.  There  were  several  high 
points  on  the  north  bank  on  which  the 
Germans  had  observation  posts,  from  which 
they  could  look  down  upon  Fismes  and  the 
surrounding  country  as  persons  in  a  theatre 
balcony  view  the  stage,  and  it  was  a  terrible 
fire  they  poured  in. 

Already  their  big  guns  had  been  with- 
drawn to  the  line  of  the  Aisne,  which  is 
only  five  miles  to  the  north  and  therefore 

23 


IM         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

well  within  range.  Lighter  pieces  in  great 
number  crowned  the  high  ground  nearer 
the  Vesle,  and  machine  guns  held  their 
usual  prominent  place  in  the  German 
scheme.  Once  more  they  brought  flame 
projectors  into  play,  using  them  in  this 
instance  at  what  is  believed  to  have  been  the 
greatest  distance  they  tried  to  operate  these 
weapons  during  the  war.  They  accomplished 
little  with  the    "flamenwerfer/*    however. 

Night  and  day  the  gun  duel  continued. 
The  French  and  American  batteries  method- 
ically set  about  to  break  up  the  concentra- 
tion of  Hun  fire.  Monday,  August  5th,  the 
shelling  became  so  violent  that  observation 
virtually  was  impossible  and  maps  had  to 
be  used,  the  American  gun  commanders 
picking  out  German  positions  that  had  been 
marked  down  earlier. 

German  105's  and  155's  (about  four  and 
six  inches)  hurled  their  high  explosive 
shells.  Shrapnel  sprayed  over  the  entire 
territory,  and  the  American  positions  in 
the  rear  were  heavily  pounded  and  deluged 
with  gas.  The  Germans  shelled  forests, 
crossroads,  highways,  clumps  of  trees  and 
all  other  places  where  they  thought  troops 
or  supplies  might  be  concentrated  or  passing. 


IN  DEATH  VALLEY  195 

Every  position  in  the  American  lines 
which  ordinarily  would  have  been  good 
from  a  military  viewpoint  became  almost 
mitenable  from  the  fact  that  the  Germans, 
having  so  recently  been  driven  out,  knew 
the  terrain  and  the  positions  accurately. 
It  was  as  safe  in  the  open  as  in  the  sup« 
posed  shelters. 

No  sooner  had  the  occupation  of  Fismes 
been  established  completely  than  the  Amer- 
icans calmly  prepared  to  cross  the  river  and 
take  Fismette,  regardless  of  the  German 
resistance.  For  some  reason  still  unex- 
plained, since  after  developments  have 
made  it  clear  the  Germans  had  no  real  hope 
of  stopping  short  of  the  Chemin-des-Dames, 
north  of  the  Aisne,  they  made  the  taking 
of  Fismette  almost  a  first-class  operation, 
even  driving  the  Americans  back  across 
the  river  after  they  once  had  established 
themselves,  and  counter-attacking  repeat- 
edly. 

Presumably,  they  had  been  unable  to 
get  away  their  vast  quantities  of  muni- 
tions and  supplies  between  the  Vesle  and 
the  Aisne,  and  needed  to  hold  up  the  pur- 
suit while  these  were  extricated. 

As  a  first  step  in  the  crossing  of  the  river. 


196         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Major  Robert  M.  Vail,  of  Scrantx)n,  com- 
manding the  108th  Machine  Gun  Battalion, 
operating  with  the  55th  Infantry  Brigade, 
sent  over  two  companies  of  machine  gun- 
ners. They  waded  the  river,  which  was 
nearly  to  their  armpits  in  places,  holding 
their  weapons  above  their  heads.  Others 
carried  ammunition  in  boxes  on  their  heads. 
They  went  over  in  a  storm  of  sheik  and 
bullets,  which  took  a  heavy  toll,  but  they 
estabUshed  a  bridgehead  on  the  north 
bank  and,  fighting  like  demons,  held  it 
against  tremendous  odds  while  men  of  the 
103d  Engineers,  ordered  up  for  the  work, 
threw  bridges  across  the  stream. 

It  was  in  this  work  that  units  of  the 
engineer  regiment,  particularly  Company 
C,  of  Pottsville,  were  badly  mauled.  Work- 
ing swiftly  and  unconcernedly  in  the  midst 
of  a  tornado  of  almost  every  conceivable 
kind  and  size  of  shell,  most  of  the  time  sus- 
taining the  discomfort  of  their  gas  masks, 
the  engineers  conducted  themselves  like 
veterans  of  years  of  service,  instead  of  the 
tyros  they  actually  were.  Oflficers  and 
men  of  the  other  organizations,  watching 
the  performance,  thrilled  with  pride  at  the 
outstanding  bravery  of  these  heroic  young 


IN  DEATH  VALLEY  197 

Americans.  Their  own  officers  were  too 
absorbed  in  their  task  to  appreciate  the 
work  of  the  men  until  afterward,  when  they 
had  also  to  mourn  their  losses. 

Methodically,  working  in  water  above 
their  waists,  many  of  them,  the  engineers 
thrust  the  arm  of  their  bridge  across  the 
stream.  Shells  raged  about  them,  churn- 
ing the  water  to  foam  and  throwing  up 
geysers  of  mud  and  spray.  Now  and  then 
a  flying  fragment  of  steel  struck  one  of  the 
toilers,  whereupon  he  either  dropped  and 
floated  downstream,  uninterested  in  the 
further  progress  of  the  war,  or  struggled  to 
the  bank  for  first  aid  and  made  his  way  to  a 
hospital. 

The  first  bridge  was  nearly  completed 
when  a  big  shell  scored  a  direct  hit  and  it 
disappeared  in  a  mass  of  kindling  wood. 
Patiently  and  tenaciously,  the  engineers, 
deprived  by  their  duties  of  even  the  satis- 
faction of  seizing  a  rifle  and  trying  to 
wreak  a  htiie  vengeance,  started  to  rebuild 
the  structure. 

Hampered  by  the  German  fire,  the  bridge 
building  was  slow  and,  the  machine  gun- 
ners having  made  a  good  crossing,  infantry 
was  started  over  the  ford.     The  process  of 


108         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

throwing  men  across  was  greatly  hastened 
when  at  last  the  first  bridge  was  completed. 
Other  spans  soon  were  ready,  but  the 
engineers  knew  no  cessation  from  their 
task,  for  all  too  frequently  Hun  projectiles 
either  tore  holes  in  the  bridges  or  wrecked 
them  altogether. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

Stars  of  Grim  Drama 

IN  Fismette,  the  Pennsylvanians  ra« 
into  a  stone  wall  of  resistance.  The 
enemy  made  desperate  efforts  to  dis- 
lodge them  and  drive  them  back  across  the 
river.  One  counter-attack  after  another 
was  met  and  beaten  off  by  the  valiant  Httle 
band  of  Americans,  supported  by  the  roar- 
ing guns  on  the  heights  to  the  south. 

The  Pennsylvanians  had  the  double  sat- 
isfaction now  of  knowing  their  own  artillery 
brigade  was  mingling  its  fire  with  that  of 
the  other  American  and  French  batteries. 
On  August  8th,  Brigadier-General  William 
G.  Price,  of  Chester,  rode  up  to  regimental 
headquarters  of  the  109th  Infantry  and 
greeted  his  friends  among  the  officers.  He 
informed  them  that  his  brigade  was  imme- 
diately behind  and  that  he  was  hunting 
division  headquarters  to  report  for  action. 
A  guide  was  assigned  him  and  the  General 
left  in  his  motor  car.  Word  soon  spread 
through  the  infantry  regiments  that  all  the 

(199) 


«00         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Pennsylvania  gunners  at  last  were  in  the 
fight. 

The  weather  turned  wet  again,  varying 
from  a  drizzle  to  a  heavy  downpour,  but 
never  quite  ceasing. 

The  penetration  of  Fismette  went  slowly 
but  steadily  on,  in  the  face  of  strong 
resistance,  the  Germans  reacting  viciously 
at  every  point  of  contact.  Here,  as  else- 
where along  the  front  between  Soissons  and 
Rheims,  the  action  consisted  of  a  series  of 
sharp  local  engagements,  with  considerable 
hand-to-hand  fighting,  in  which  American 
bayonets  played  an  important  r6le. 

Amid  the  fever  of  battle  and  not  knowing 
what  moment  may  prove  their  last,  men 
move  as  if  in  a  trance.  Hours  and  days 
pass  undistinguished  and  unrecorded.  With 
the  fundamental  scheme  of  existence 
shattered  and  with  friends  of  years  and 
chums  of  months  of  campaigning  killed 
between  sunrise  and  sunset,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  men's  minds  become  abnormal  and 
their  acts  superhuman. 

In  quiet,  peaceful  homes  it  is  impossible 
to  understand  this  psychology.  One  may 
comprehend  the  mental  shock  sustained 
when  a  relative  or  neighbor  or  close  friend 


STARS  OF  GRIM  DRAMA     201 

falls  victim  to  accident  or  disease,  but  that 
feeling  is  but  distantly  related  to  the  effect 
upon  the  soldier  when  he  realizes  that  a 
dozen,  possibly  half  a  hundred,  of  his  com- 
rades and  close  associates  of  weeks  of  work 
and  recreation  have  been  wiped  out  of 
existence  in  an  hour — ^men  with  whom  he 
had  talked  daily,  possibly  was  talking  at 
the  time  of  dissolution. 

The  same  experience  is  repeated  day 
after  day  with  deep  effect  upon  his  mental, 
as  well  as  his  physical,  state  of  being. 
Even  in  civil  life,  one  learns  that  loss  of 
sleep  in  time  acts  like  a  drug.  After  twenty- 
four  or  thirty-six  hours  without  sleep,  it 
becomes  increasingly  easy  to  do  without 
further,  until  the  limit  of  human  endurance 
is  reached  and  the  victim  collapses.  Also, 
infrequent  food  and  drink  may  be  borne  at 
increasingly  long  intervals.  The  condition 
is  not  infrequently  described,  accurately 
enough,  as  being  "too  hungry  to  eat,"  or 
"  too  tired  to  rest."  Inevitably  the  reaction 
comes,  and  the  longer  the  relief  is  postponed, 
the  worse  is  the  reaction.  For  this  reason, 
the  first  day  in  repose  for  soldiers  after  a 
long  campaign  is  usually  worse  than  the 
campaign  itself. 


202         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

But  while  the  deprivation  of  sleep,  food 
and  drink  continues,  it  is  undeniable  that, 
though  the  physical  being  may  support  the 
loss  with  decreasing  discomfort  up  to  the 
point  of  collapse,  the  effect  upon  the  senses 
is  almost  that  of  an  opiate.  Men  lose  their 
sense  of  proportion.  Everything  ordinarily 
of  prime  importance  recedes  into  the  back- 
ground. The  soldier  is  imbued  with  but 
one  overmastering  aspiration — ^to  go  on  and 
on  and  on. 

It  is  no  wonder  that,  in  such  case,  he  feels 
that  his  own  fate  is  a  small  matter,  as  it  is 
liable  to  be  sealed  at  any  moment,  in  the 
same  way  as  that  of  his  comrades;  no 
wonder  that  he  faces  death  with  the  same 
indifference  as  a  man  at  home  faces  a 
summer  shower. 

This,  then,  is  the  state  to  which  our 
Pennsylvania  soldiers  had  now  been  reduced, 
and  in  consequence  their  deeds  of  personal 
heroism  began  to  multiply.  This  was 
the  period  when  individual  men  achieved 
most  frequently  the  great  glory  of  the 
service — citation  and  decoration  for  bravery 
in  action.  They  had  overstepped,  indi- 
vidually and  collectively,  all  the  bounds  of 
personal  fear  of  death  or  injury. 


STARS  OF  GRIM  DRAMA 


The  Germans  hurled  one  fresh  regiment 
after  another  into  the  inferno  which  was 
Fismette,  in  a  determined  effort  to  dislodge 
that  pitiful  handful  of  Americans  which 
had  found  lodgment  on  its  river  edge. 
Five  times  fresh,  vigorous  forces,  with 
hardly  a  lull,  were  hurled  at  the  position. 
All  the  time  the  guns  kept  up  an  incessant 
cannonade,  both  of  Fismette  and  Fismes 
and  the  back  reaches  of  the  Allied  front, 
while  the  attacking  forces  were  strongly 
supported  by  airplanes,  artillery  and  machine 
guns. 

The  tide  of  battle  swayed  back  and 
forth  as  the  Americans,  reinforced  at 
intervals  by  groups  of  men  who  succeeded 
in  crossing  the  river,  worked  their  way 
forward,  only  to  be  hurled  back  by  vastly 
superior  forces  of  the  enemy,  and  hero 
after  hero  stalked,  actor-like,  across  the 
murky  stage.  Some  gallant  acts  were 
recorded  and,  duly  and  in  due  time,  won 
their  reward.  Many  more  never  were 
heard  of,  for  the  reason  that  participants 
and  witnesses  were  beyond  mortal  honor, 
or  else  the  only  witnesses  were  part  and 
parcel  of  the  heroic  act  and  therefore, 
according    to    the    Anglo-Saxon    code    of 


204         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

honor,  their  lips  were  sealed.  They  could 
not  tell  of  their  own  fine  deeds. 

It  was  the  111th  Infantry  which  came 
into  its  gallant  own  in  the  first  penetration 
of  Fismette,  and  its  men  took  high  rank 
in  the  heroic  galaxy  constituting  the  Iron 
Division. 

Probably  the  most  noteworthy  deed  of 
individual  heroism  was  that  of  Corporal 
Raynwnd  B.  Rowbottom,  of  Avalon,  Pa., 
near  Pittsburgh,  member  of  Company  E, 
and  Corporal  James  D.  Moore,  Erie,  Pa., 
of  Company  G,  both  of  the  111th. 

They  were  on  outpost  duty  together  with 
automatic  rifle  teams  in  a  house  beyond 
the  spinning  mill  on  the  western  edge  of 
Fismette.  The  mill  had  been  one  of  the 
hotly  contested  strongholds  of  the  Germans 
because  of  its  size  and  the  thickness  of  its 
old  stone  walls.  The  situation  was  such 
that  the  loss  of  the  firing  post  in  the  house 
would  have  endangered  not  only  a  battalion 
which  was  coming  up  under  Lieutenant 
L.  Howard  Fielding,  of  Llanerch,  Pa.,  but 
also  would  have  made  the  whole  military 
operation  more  diflScult,  if  not  impossible. 

A  flare  thrown  from  a  German  post 
landed  in  the  room  where  Rowbottom  and 


STARS  OF  GRIM  DRAMA     205 

Moore  had  established  themselves,  and  in  a 
moment  the  place  was  ablaze.  This  was 
on  the  night  of  August  12th.  The  flare 
had  been  thrown  for  the  particular  purpose 
of  providing  illumination  for  the  German 
snipers  and  machine  gunners  to  see  their 
target.  The  fire  that  started  from  it  not 
only  answered  this  purpose  better  than  the 
flare  alone  could  have,  but  also  distracted 
the  attention  of  the  American  outpost  and 
threatened  to  drive  them  from  the  house. 

There  was,  of  course,  no  water  in  the 
house  except  the  small  quantity  contained 
in  the  canteens  of  the  men.  With  this 
absurdly  inadequate  supply  and  their  own 
bare  hands,  fighting  flames  in  a  room  as 
bright  as  day  and  under  a  heavy,  concen- 
trated machine  gun  and  rifle  fire.  Row- 
bottom  and  Moore  extinguished  the  blaze 
and  then  calmly  resumed  their  automatic 
rifle  work.  For  hours  they  went  thirsty, 
until  their  throats  were  parched  and  their 
tongues  swelled.  For  Ais  deed,  both  men 
were  cited  and  given  the  Distinguished 
Service  Cross. 

Five  wounded  men  were  left  behind 
unavoidably  when  a  detachment  of  the 
111th  was  called  hurriedly  back  from  an 


206         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

advanced  post  which  it  was  seen  could  not 
be  held  without  too  great  sacrifice.  Private 
Albert  R.  Murphy,  of  Philadelphia,  a 
member  of  the  sanitary  detachment  of  the 
111th,  volunteered  to  go  out  after  them. 
Despite  seemingly  insurmountable  obstacles 
and  constantly  under  vicious  fire  from 
scores  of  enemy  marksmen.  Murphy  stuck 
to  his  task  until  the  last  man  was  back, 
although  it  took  three  days  and  nights  of 
repeated  effort.  He,  too,  was  cited  and 
given  the  Distinguished  Service  Cross. 

A  sergeant  of  Company  C,  111th  Infantry, 
was  shot  on  August  10th  and  lay  in  an 
exposed  position.  Sergeant  Alfred  Steven- 
son, of  Chester,  a  member  of  the  same 
company,  volunteered  to  go  to  the  rescue. 
He  successfully  made  his  way  through  the 
enemy  fire  to  the  side  of  the  wounded  com- 
rade. As  he  leaned  over  the  man  to  get  a 
grip  on  him  so  he  could  carry  the  burden,  a 
sharpshooter's  bullet  struck  him.  Steven- 
son partially  raised  himself  and  said  to 
the  wounded  man: 

"  Gee,  they  got  me  that  time/' 
As  he  spoke  the  words,  the  sniper  shot 
him  again  and  he  fell  dead.     The  wounded 
man  lay  in  a  clump  of  bushes  and  between 


STARS  OF  GRIM  DRAMA     207 

there  and  our  lines  was  an  open  space  of 
considerable  width.  When  Stevenson  did 
not  reappear  with  the  wounded  man.  Cor- 
poral Robert  R.  Riley,  of  Chester,  a  member 
of  the  same  company,  and  two  comrades 
asked  permission  to  go  after  the  two. 

At  their  first  effort,  all  were  wounded 
and  forced  to  return.  Corporal  Riley's 
wound  was  not  severe,  however,  and  he 
insisted  upon  making  another  attempt. 
This  time  he  reached  the  spot,  only  to 
find  his  old  schoolmate,  Stevenson,  dead, 
and  the  man  for  whom  the  effort  was  made 
able  to  crawl  back  after  having  first  aid 
treatment.  Riley  collapsed  on  his  way 
back  and  was  carried  in  by  Private  Edward 
Davis  and  sent  to  a  hospital,  where  he 
recovered  and  was  awarded  the  Distin- 
guished Service  Cross. 

On  August  10th,  a  detachment  of  men 
of  the  111th  captured  some  enemy  machine 
guns  and  a  quantity  of  ammunition.  Cor- 
poral Raymond  Peacock,  of  Norristown,  a 
member  of  Company  F,  was  the  only  man 
available  who  knew  how  to  operate  the 
enemy  gun,  a  Maxim.  He  had  just  been 
so  badly  wounded  in  the  left  shoulder  that 
the  arm  was  partially  useless.     Neverthe- 


208         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

less,  he  volunteered  to  go  forward  and 
operate  the  gun.  He  participated  in  a 
spirited  assault,  firing  the  weapon  with 
one  hand,  until  he  was  wounded  again.  A 
Distinguished  Service  Cross  was  his  reward. 

An  oflBcer  of  the  111th  called  for  a  runner 
to  take  a  message  from  Fismette  back  to 
Fismes.  The  path  that  had  to  be  covered 
was  pounded  by  big  shells  and  sprayed  with 
machine  gun  bullets,  and  the  man  who 
volunteered  went  but  a  short  distance 
when  he  dropped,  riddled  like  a  sieve. 

Undaunted  by  the  sight.  Private  Lester 
Carson,  of  Clearfield,  Pa.,  a  member  of 
Company  L,  promptly  volunteered  and  was 
given  a  duplicate  message.  His  luck  held, 
for  he  got  through  over  the  same  route, 
by  an  exercise  of  daring,  aggressiveness  and 
care,  and  delivered  the  note.  He,  too,  won 
a  Distinguished  Service  Cross. 

For  five  days  of  the  most  intense  fighting, 
from  August  9th  to  13th,  Private  Fred 
Otte,  Fairmount  City,  Pa.,  a  member  of 
Company  A,  111th  Infantry,  acted  as  a 
runner  between  his  battalion  headquarters 
in  Fismes  and  the  troops  in  Fismette.  He 
made  several  trips  across  the  Vesle  under 
heavy  shell  and  machine  gun  fire,  and  when 


STARS  OF  GRIM  DRAMA     209 

the  bridge  was  destroyed  he  continued  his 
trips  by  swimming  the  river,  in  spite  of  wire 
entanglements  in  the  water.  For  this  he 
received  a  Distinguished  Service  Cross. 

Bugler  Harold  S.  Gilham,  of  Pittsburgh, 
Company  H,  and  Private  Charles  A.  Printz, 
of  Norristown,  Company  F,  both  of  the 
111th,  not  only  volunteered  as  runners  to 
carry  messages  to  the  •  rear,  but  on  their 
return  showed  their  scorn  of  the  enemy  by 
burdening  themselves  with  heavy  boxes  of 
ammunition  which  was  badly  needed. 

Sergeant  James  R.  McKenney,  of  Pitts- 
burgh, Company  E,  111th  Infantry,  took 
out  a  patrol  to  mop  up  snipers.  When  he 
returned,  successful,  he  was  ordered  to  rest, 
but  begged  and  obtained  permission  to  take 
out  another  patrol. 

Sergeant  Richard  H.  Vaughan,  of  Royers- 
ford.  Pa.,  Company  A,  111th  Infantry,  was 
severely  gassed  and  his  scalp  was  laid  open 
by  a  piece  of  shrapnel.  Despite  this,  he 
refused  to  go  back  for  treatment,  but  had 
his  wound  treated  on  the  field  and  con- 
tinued to  command  his  platoon  for  four 
days  until  relieved.  He  died  later  of  his 
injuries,  but  a  Distinguished  Service  Cross 
was  awarded  to  him  and  sent  to  his  father. 


210         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Dr.  E.  M.  Vaughan,  of  Royersford,  together 
with  the  text  of  the  official  citation,  which 
told  the  tale  of  the  Sergeant's  heroism  and 
concluded  with  the  statement: 

"By  his  bravery  and  encouragement  to 
his  men,  he  exemplified  the  highest  qualities 
of  leadership." 

Corporal  James  V.  Gleason,  of  Pottstown, 
Pa.,  Company  A,  111th,  was  publicly  com- 
mended and  given  the  Distinguished  Service 
Cross  for  his  "great  aid  in  restoring  and 
holding  control  of  the  line  in  absolute  dis- 
regard to  personal  danger  and  without  food 
or  rest  for  seventy-two  hours."  How  terse 
and  yet  how  graphic  are  these  precise  words 
of  the  official  citation ! 

Lieutenants  Walter  Ettinger,  of  Phoenix- 
ville,  who  later  was  killed,  and  Robert  B. 
Woodbury,  of  Pottsville,  the  former  an 
officer  of  Company  D,  and  the  latter  of 
Company  M,  111th  Infantry,  spent  three 
sleepless  days  and  nights  aiding  and  en- 
couraging their  men  to  hold  a  position. 

On  August  12th,  the  Germans  delivered 
an  attack  in  force,  preceded  by  an  intense 
bombardment  and  accompanied  by  a  rolling 
barrage,  which  was  too  pretentious  to  be 
met  by  the  small  American  force  in  Fis- 


STARS  OF  GRIM  DRAMA     211 

mette.  In  the  face  of  those  onrushing 
German  hordes,  there  were  but  two  things 
to  do — die  heroically  but  futilely  or  retire. 
True  to  American  army  traditions,  under 
which  men  never  are  required  to  lay  down 
their  lives  uselessly,  the  American  force 
slowly,  reluctantly  and  stubbornly  retired 
across  the  river. 

Instantly  the  Franco-American  guns  gave 
tongue.  They  laid  down  upon  Fismette 
a  bombardment  which  made  the  German 
effort  seem  trifling.  With  the  walls  falling 
around  them,  the  Germans  began  to  flee. 
And  then  the  task  of  conquering  that  stub- 
born little  village  was  begun  again. 

This  second  advance  was  led  by  a  detach- 
ment of  the  111th,  under  Captain  James 
Archibald  Williams  and  Lieutenant  H.  E. 
Leonard,  both  of  Pittsburgh.  They  swam 
the  Vesle  under  a  hail  of  fire,  for  the  enemy 
centered  much  of  his  artillery  upon  the 
bridges,  and  shrapnel  and  machine  gun 
bullets  fell  upon  them  like  rain. 

Soaked  from  head  to  foot,  the  Pennsyl- 
vanians  got  a  footing  on  the  northern 
bank,  only  to  find  they  were  unsupported 
as  yet  on  either  flank.  Undaunted,  they 
plunged  forward  into  a  little  ravine  which 


212         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

seemed  to  offer  some  protection.  On  the 
contrary,  they  found  there  had  settled  into 
it  most  of  the  gas  with  which  the  enemy 
had  been  drenching  the  town.  Various 
kinds  of  the  poisonous  vapor,  mustard  gas, 
sneeze  gas,  tear  gas  and  chlorine  gas,  had 
accumulated  there  in  a  seething  mixture, 
providing  the  worst  experience  with  this 
form  of  Hun  deviltry  the  men  had  met. 

Gas  masks  were  already  in  place,  how- 
ever, and  forward  they  went  on  the  run. 
Machine  guns  chattered  angrily  at  them, 
and  the  gunners  stood  their  ground  until 
the  flashing  bayonets  of  the  Americans  were 
almost  at  their  breasts.  Then  they  either 
broke  and  fled  or  bleated  the  customary 
plea  for  mercy. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Ambulanciers  to  Front 

WHILE  all  this  was  going  forward, 
shells  had  wrecked  all  the  bridges 
over  the  river  but  one  and  it  was 
so  damaged  as  to  be  considered  unsafe,  so 
the  little  force  in  Fismette  had  to  hold  on 
as  best  it  could  until  reinforcements  could 
be  thrown  across.  It  was  at  this  juncture 
that  there  entered  into  fame  a  new  set  of 
candidates  for  military  decorations. 

The  men  of  the  103d  Sanitary  Train  of  the 
Twenty-eighth  Division  had  been  perform- 
ing their  arduous  and  perilous  tasks  in  a 
gallant  and  self-sacrificing  manner,  but 
they  now  achieved  the  apotheosis  of 
bravery. 

In  the  cellar  of  a  house  in  Fismette  there 
had  been  assembled  twenty-eight  American 
wounded,  and  it  was  necessary  to  evacuate 
them  across  the  river  in  order  that  they 
might  reach  hospitals  and  receive  proper 
treatment.  Five  times  the  house  had 
been  struck  by  shells  and  Sergeant  William 

(213) 


214  THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Lukens,  of  Cheltenham,  Pa.,  and  a  few 
other  men  had  to  scrape  the  debris  off  the 
wounded.  Four  times  the  comrades  of 
Lukens  had  to  dig  him  out  when  shells 
buried  him  under  an  avalanche  of  earth. 

Captain  Charles  Hendricks,  of  Blairsville, 
Pa.,  remained  in  the  cellar  three  days  and 
four  nights,  and  twice  was  buried  by  shells. 

The  ambulance  men  who  finally  carried 
the  wounded  back  across  the  river,  after 
hairbreadth  escapes  and  thrilling  experi- 
ences, were  headed  by  Captain  George  E. 
McGinnis,  of  Philadelphia,  and  were  mem- 
bers of  Ambulance  Company  110,  formerly 
Ambulance  Company  £  in  the  National 
Guard. 

The  advance  party  of  rescuers  set  out  for 
Fismes  in  a  touring  car.  It  was  made  up 
of  Major  Frederick  Hartung,  of  Pittsburgh; 
Major  Edward  M.  Hand,  of  Coraopolis, 
Captain  McGinnis  and  Privates  Walter 
McGinnis  and  Walter  Frosch,  both  of 
Philadelphia,  and  all  members  of  the  med- 
ical corps. 

Frosch  was  at  the  wheel.  They  took  the 
road  down  the  hill  on  the  southern  slope 
of  the  Vesle  at  breakneck  speed,  for  caution 
was  useless.      They  were  in  full  view  of 


AMBULANCIERS  TO  FRONT    215 

scores  of  enemy  gunners  and  their  car  at 
once  became  a  target,  being  hit  several 
times.  Frosch  drove  on  "without  batting 
an  eye,"  as  the  officers  remarked. 

Over  the  unsafe  bridge  they  rushed  at 
top  speed  and,  to  the  amazement  of  the 
watching  Americans  on  the  south  bank, 
the  structure  held.  Then  the  car  tore  up 
through  Fismette  to  the  dressing  station, 
around  which  big  shells  were  beating  a 
terrible  tattoo.  The  men  hurriedly  looked 
over  the  situation  and  then  made  a  pre- 
concerted signal  to  the  ambulanciers  wait- 
ing on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 

When  the  signal  was  received,  the  ambu- 
lances came  out  from  cover  and  dashed  for 
the  river.  They  were  conspicuously  deco- 
rated with  the  red  cross,  but  that  seemed 
only  to  make  them  a  special  target  for  the 
enemy.  The  machines  were  manned  by 
James  T.  O'Neill,  of  Aldan,  Pa. ;  James  R. 
Gunn,  Joseph  M.  Murray,  Samuel  Falls, 
Alfred  Baker,  Originnes  Biemuller,  known 
among  his  comrades  as  "Mike,"  James  R. 
Brown,  Jack  Curry,  Harry  Broadbent,  Ray- 
mond Onyx  and  Albert  Smith,  all  of 
Philadelphia,  and  John  F.  Maxwell,  of 
Williamsport. 


216         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

On  the  trip  into  Fismette,  the  ambulances 
escaped  a  hit,  miraculous  as  it  may  seem. 
They  went  around  corners  on  two  wheels, 
thundering  and  rushing  through  the  narrow 
little  streets  littered  with  dust  and  debris, 
and  came  to  a  halt  in  the  lee  of  the  dress- 
ing station.  Their  crews  leaped  to  the 
ground  and  set  to  work  loading  the 
wounded. 

The  Hun  artillerists  and  machine  gun- 
ners vented  all  their  varieties  of  hate  on 
the  gallant  little  group  intent  on  an  errand 
of  mercy.  It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  Ger- 
man army  had  determined  they  should  not 
get  their  wounded  back  to  Fismes.  With 
more  indifference  to  the  fire  than  they  felt 
for  the  clouds  of  flies  which  really  annoyed 
them,  the  ambulance  men  worked  quickly, 
smoothly  and  efficiently. 

O'Neill  was  sent  back  to  see  if  the  bridge 
still  was  standing.  Instead  of  contenting 
himself  with  making  sure  of  this  from  the 
brow  of  the  river  slope,  he  bethought  him 
of  a  cache  of  medical  supplies  near  the 
river  and  continued  on  foot  to  the  spot, 
carrying  back  with  him  a  burden  of  needed 
stores.  Officers,  watching  the  splendid  exhi- 
bition   of    cast-iron    nerve    through    their 


AMBULANCIERS  TO  FRONT    217 

glasses  from  the  far  side  of  the  river, 
alternately  cursed  hira  for  *'a  blazing  young 
fool"  and  blessed  him  for  being  "the  kind 
of  young  fool  that  does  things." 

O'Neill  reported  that  the  bridge  was 
still  in  place  and  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing the  first  ambulance  was  loaded  and 
sent  away.  Captain  McGinnis  went  with 
it.  The  second  ambulance  left  a  few 
minutes  later.  Broadbent  and  Maxwell 
still  were  loading.  O'Neill  had  made 
another  trip  to  the  river  to  see  if  the 
bridge  was  all  right. 

The  first  two  ambulances  had  just  cleared 
the  river  when  a  shell  landed  fairly  on  the 
span  and  broke  it  through.  O'Neill  ran 
back  to  tell  his  comrades  and  as  he  arrived 
a  big  shell  fell  just  outside  the  cellar. 
Broadbent  was  knocked  down  and  deluged 
with  earth  at  the  entrance.  He  scrambled 
back  into  the  cellar  at  top  speed,  but  one 
of  the  wounded  men  in  the  ambulance, 
supposed  to  be  too  badly  hurt  to  walk, 
beat  Broadbent  into  the  shelter. 

One  of  the  patients  was  wounded  again 
in  the  leg  and  one  of  the  ambulanciers  held 
his  hand  over  his  cheek,  where  a  screw 
from  the  side  of  the  ambulance  had  been 


218         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

blown  clear  through.  Three  tires  of  the 
ambulance  were  punctured,  the  sides  were 
perforated  in  a  score  of  places  and  the 
roof  was  blown  off  by  shell  fragments. 

The  patients  were  unloaded  and  carried 
back  into  the  cellar  to  await  a  quieter 
moment.  Repairs  were  made  to  the  bridge 
and  Captain  McGinnis  returned  in  a  car 
and  ordered  the  ambulances  to  get  away. 
They  started  again  at  seven  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  but  found  the  bridge  again  a 
mass  of  wreckage  and  had  to  return. 

At  last,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
there  came  a  lull  in  the  enemy  fire  and 
two  more  of  the  ambulances  began  their 
perilous  race  across  the  river,  the  engineers 
having  just  completed  the  rebuilding  of  the 
bridge.  For  the  second  time  they  just 
cheated  a  big  shell,  which  landed  on  the 
bridge  immediately  after  the  second  car 
had  crossed,  and  the  structure  was  put  out 
of  service  beyond  hope  of  quick  repair. 

Thereupon  the  ambulanciers  remaining 
in  the  Fismette  cellar  calmly  proceeded  to 
carry  the  remaining  wounded  on  litters 
down  the  hill  through  the  German  fire, 
under  protection  of  a  well-organized  defense 
by  our  fighting  men.      They  forded  the 


AMBULANCIERS  TO  FRONT    219 

river,  holding  the  Htters  above  their  heads, 
while  shells  threw  up  waterspouts  and 
bullets  pattered  like  hail  all  about  them. 

On  the  southern  bank,  ambulances  stood 
out  in  the  open,  backed  almost  to  the  water's 
edge,  their  drivers  smoking  cigarettes  and 
watching  and  calling  advice  to  the  men  in 
the  water.  Thus  the  last  of  the  wounded 
were  taken  from  under  the  noses  of  the 
enemy. 

Captain  McGinnis  and  most  of  the  en- 
listed men  whose  names  have  been  men- 
tioned were  awarded  Distinguished  Service 
Crosses.  Most  of  them  had  worked 
seventy-two  hours  and  many  had  abso- 
lutely no  rest  for  forty-eight  hours.  Ten 
of  their  thirteen  ambulances  were  de- 
molished. 

In  organizing  a  protective  offense  to 
cover  the  evacuation  of  the  wounded. 
First  Sergeant  Thomas  J.  Cavanaugh,  of 
Pittsburgh,  a  member  of  Company  D, 
111th  Infantry,  distinguished  himself  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  be  awarded  the  Dis- 
tinguished Service  Cross. 

With  a  small  force  of  men,  he  captured  a 
building  in  the  outskirts  of  the  village  and 
organized  it  as  a  strong  point.      He  then 


220         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

took  a  position  himself  at  a  street  inter- 
section where,  by  stepping  around  the 
corner  of  the  buildings  one  way,  he  was 
protected  from  enemy  snipers  and  machine 
gunners,  and  by  turning  the  corner,  he 
was  open  to  the  fire  sweeping  in  gusts 
down  the  road  the  ambulance  men  had  to 
cover.  Cavanaugh,  when  an  ambulance 
was  ready  to  move,  stepped  into  the  open, 
like  Ajax  defying  the  lightning.  If  the 
Germans  were  not  firing  heavily  for  the 
moment,  he  whistled  a  signal  to  the  ambu- 
lance men  that  it  was  safe  to  go  ahead. 

He  was  wounded  by  shrapnel,  but  refused 
to  leave  his  post  until  he  collapsed,  an  hour 
and  a  half  after  being  struck.  The  next 
day,  having  had  his  wound  treated,  he 
insisted  on  resuming  his  position  as  a 
human  target  for  the  benefit  of  the  ambu- 
lance men  and  their  wounded. 

Captain  Edmund  W.  Lynch,  of  Chester, 
commanding  Company  B,  111th  Infantry, 
who  was  killed  a  short  time  later,  and 
Lieutenant  Edward  S.  Fitzgerald,  of  New 
York  City,  exposed  themselves  in  the  same 
manner  and  for  the  same  self-sacrificing 
purpose  at  other  important  corners. 

And  the  fight  for  possession  of  Fismette 


AMBULANCIERS  TO  FRONT    221 

went  forward  ceaselessly.  A  daring  and 
clever  bit  of  work  by  a  party  of  Pennsyl- 
vania machine  gunners  under  Lieutenant 
Milford  W.  Fredenburg,  of  Ridgway,  Pa., 
an  oflSicer  of  Company  D,  ll^th  Infantry, 
had  a  considerable  influence  on  the  final 
driving  of  the  enemy  from  the  town.  The 
lieutenant  led  his  gunners  filtering  through 
the  German  lines  at  night,  like  Indians,  a 
man  or  two  here,  another  there.  They 
assembled  beyond  the  town,  took  shelter 
in  a  wood  and  when  the  fighting  was  most 
furious  the  next  day  they  were  able  to  pour 
in  a  disconcerting  fire  on  the  rear  of  the 
German  forces. 

Lieutenant  Rippey  L.  Shearer,  of  Harris- 
burg,  with  men  of  Company  G,  112th 
Infantry,  crossed  the  river  in  water  up  to 
their  necks,  in  which  the  shorter  men  had 
either  to  swim  or  be  supported  by  the 
larger  ones.  They  had  the  center  of  the 
advance  and  captured  a  building  which 
had  been  used  as  a  tannery  and  had  been 
a  German  stronghold.  It  was  a  desperately 
brave,  although  costly,  bit  of  work  for 
which  the  Pennsylvanians  were  highly 
praised. 

Captain  Fred  L.   McCoy,   Grove  City, 


2««         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Pa.,  commanding  Company  M,  112th  In- 
fantry, held  the  left  flank.  He  and  his  men 
fought  their  way  down  the  river  bank  to 
where  an  old  stone  mansion,  known  as  the 
Chateau  Diable,  had  been  a  thorn  in  the 
side  of  the  American  attack.  They  stormed 
and  captured  the  building,  taking  thirty 
machine  guns,  a  large  quantity  of  ammuni- 
tion and  many  prisoners. 

Captain  Lucius  M.  Phelps,  of  Erie,  Pa., 
commanding  Company  G,  112th,  and  Cap- 
tain Harry  F.  Miller,  of  Meadville,  Pa., 
commanding  Company  B,  of  the  same 
regiment,  led  their  companies  in  an  advance 
east  of  the  tannery  until  they  were 
ensconced  behind  stout  stone  walls,  from 
where  they  were  able  to  turn  their  guns  on 
the  enemy  stubbornly  clinging  to  the  north- 
ern fringe  of  the  village. 

The  103d  Trench  Mortar  Battery,  made 
up  very  largely  of  members  of  the  old  First 
City  Troop  of  Philadelphia  and  representa- 
tive of  many  of  the  socially  prominent 
families  of  that  city,  entered  its  first  general 
action.  Under  command  of  Captain  Ralph 
W.  Knowles,  of  Philadelphia,  the  battery 
advanced  with  the  infantry,  lugging  their 
Stokes  mortars  across  the  river  and  up  the 


AMBULANCIERS  TO  FRONT    ms 

hill.  They  set  up  their  squat  weapons  and 
soon  the  deep-throated  roars  of  the  mortars 
hurling  their  immense  bombs  joined  in  the 
chorus  that  was  beginning  to  sound  the 
knell  of  German  hopes  of  hanging  onto  any 
part  of  Fismette. 

West  of  Fismette,  the  broad  Rheims- 
Rouen  highway  became,  in  the  course  of 
these  operations  north  of  the  Vesle,  an 
objective  of  commanding  importance  to  the 
Americans  for  the  purpose  of  breaking  up 
lateral  communications  along  the  German 
line.  Captain  Arthur  L.  Schlosser,  of 
Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  later  killed,  and  Captain 
Robert  S.  Caine,  of  Pittsburgh,  who  went 
to  France  as  lieutenants  of  Company  G, 
111th  Infantry,  on  their  own  initiative 
started  a  raid  which  developed  into  a 
successful  attack  and  resulted  in  the 
capture  of  the  highway  where  it  crosses 
the  Vesle. 

Captain  Schlosser,  who  was  almost  a 
giant  in  size,  carried  a  rifle  himself  and, 
instead  of  having  his  men  advance  in 
company  formation,  ^ed  them  filtering 
through  the  woods  in  Indian  fashion.  He 
captured  two  Maxim  guns  and  killed  the 
crews  and  he  and  Captain  Caine  and  their 


224         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

men  held  their  positions  against  counter- 
attacks by  the  remnants  of  three  German 
regiments. 

Not  all  the  losses  were  confined  to  the 
attacking  troops.  The  enemy  artillery, 
continually  shelling  the  back  areas,  took  its 
sad  toll  of  American  life  and  limb.  The 
103d  Engineers,  who  had  been  performing 
prodigious  work  in  their  own  line,  suffered 
the  loss  of  their  second  in  command, 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Frank  J.  Duffy,  of 
Scran  ton,  Pa.  As  he  stepped  into  a  side 
car  in  front  of  headquarters  on  the  evening 
of  August  17th  to  make  a  tour  of  the  lines,  a 
huge  shell  exploded  immediately  behind, 
killing  him  and  the  cycle  driver  instantly. 

Back  on  the  hills  south  of  Fismes,  the 
Pennsylvania  artillery  all  this  time  had 
been  earning  the  right  to  rank  in  the  Iron 
Division  glory  roll  along  with  their  dough- 
boy comrades.  At  one  time,  just  as  a 
battery  had  geared  up  to  move  and  the 
men  already  were  astride  their  horses,  a 
big  shell  dropped  plump  upon  the  lead  team 
of  one  of  the  guns. 

"Steady,  men,"  called  an  officer,  and  the 
men  sat  their  plunging,  trembling  horses  as 
if  on  parade.     It  was  an  ideal  time  for  a 


AMBULANCIERS  TO  FRONT    2^ 

costly  stampede,  but  the  conduct  of  the 
artillerymen  prevented  this  and  won  the 
highest  praise  of  officers  and  men  of  other 
imits  who  saw  the  occurrence. 

Two  men  were  killed  and  three  severely 
wounded  and  two  horses  were  blown  to 
bits.  The  wheel  driver  trotted  to  a  first 
aid  station  to  get  help  for  the  wounded 
men,  while  the  regiment  went  on.  After 
delivering  his  message,  the  driver  obtained 
a  supply  of  powder  and  shells  and  went  on 
the  gallop  to  the  battery  position  to  deliver 
the  ammunition.  Then  he  said  to  men 
about  him: 

"Now,  if  you  fellows  have  all  that  stuff 
unloaded  and  one  of  you  will  help  me  down, 
I'll  get  you  to  tie  a  knot  around  this  leg  of 
mine." 

Only  then  was  it  discovered  that  he  had 
been  attending  to  other  wounded  men  and 
the  ammunition  needs  of  the  battery  with 
a  bad  gash  in  his  own  leg  from  a  shell 
fragment. 

Members  of  the  headquarters  companies 
of  the  artillery  regiments  maintained  com- 
munications constantly,  stringing  telephone 
wires  in  the  face  of  heavy  enemy  fire  in 
almost  impossible  places.      There  was  no 


226         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

thought  of  failing.  When  some  men  died 
in  an  attempt,  others  promptly  stepped 
into  the  breach  to  "carry  on." 

Still  the  German  guns  from  their  hill- 
tops poured  down  their  galling  fire  upon 
the  American  positions.  Still  the  snipers 
and  machine  gunners  hung  on  in  Fismette 
and  still  the  crossing  of  the  Vesle  under 
bombardment  was  so  hazardous  that  an 
attack  in  force  was  impracticable. 

The  fighting  in  the  streets  of  the  town 
swayed  back  and  forth  until  August  28th. 
That  day  the  Germans  came  down  out  of 
their  hills  in  a  roaring  tide.  They  boiled 
into  Fismette  and  drove  the  small  force  of 
Pennsylvanians  back  to  the  river,  where  an 
amazingly  few  men  managed  to  hold  a 
bridgehead  on  the  northern  bank,  and  the 
town  once  more  was  German  territory. 

Then  our  gunners  went  systematically  to 
work  to  level  the  place,  for  the  high  com- 
mand had  lost  all  hope  of  taking  it  by 
infantry  assault  without  an  unworthy  loss 
of  bravfc  men. 


CHAPTER    XV 
A  Martial  Panorama 

BUT  meanwhile  great  and  portentous 
things  had  been  happening  elsewhere 
on  the  long  battle  line.  Up  in 
Flanders,  the  British  troops,  with  American 
brigades  fighting  shoulder  to  shoulder  with 
them,  were  driving  the  Germans  eastward. 
Farther  south,  the  French  were  hounding 
the  fleeing  Germans.  And  American  forces 
around  Soissons  were  pounding  away  in 
such  a  fashion  as  to  make  the  positions 
along  the  Vesle  untenable  for  their  stub- 
born defenders. 

The  enlisted  men  knew  little  or  nothing 
of  this  and  even  the  junior  oflficers  were  sur- 
prised when  word  came  back  from  patrols 
on  the  north  of  the  river  on  September  4th, 
that  they  met  almost  no  opposition  from  the 
enemy.  Even  his  artillery  fire  had  fallen 
off  to  a  little  desultory  shelling,  so  at  once 
a  general  advance  was  ordered. 

Roads  in  the  rear  instantly  became  alive 
with  motor  trucks,  big  guns,  columns  of 

(227) 


228         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

men,  wagon  trains  and  all  the  countless 
activities  of  an  army  on  the  march.  The 
sight  of  the  main  forces  crossing  the  river 
was  a  wonderful  one  to  the  officers  stand- 
ing on  the  hills  overlooking  the  scene,  and 
one  that  they  never  will  forget. 

The  long  columns  debouched  from  the 
wooded  shelters,  deployed  into  wide,  thin 
lines  and  moved  off  down  the  slope  into  the 
narrow  river  valley.  Below  them  lay  the 
villages  and  towns  of  the  Vesle,  pounded 
almost  to  dust  by  the  thousands  of  shells 
which  had  fallen  upon  them  during  the 
weeks  the  two  armies  contended  for  their 
possession.  The  men  went  down  the  hili 
exactly  as  they  had  done  so  often  in  war 
maneuvers  and  sham  battles  at  training 
camps.  Only  an  occasional  burst  of  black 
smoke  and  a  spouting  geyser  of  earth  and 
stones  showed  it  was  real  warfare,  although 
even  that  had  been  so  well  simulated  in  the 
training  that,  except  that  now  and  then  a 
man  or  two  dropped  and  either  lay  still  or 
got  up  and  limped  slowly  back  up  the  hill,  the 
whole  thing  might  have  been  merely  a  drama 
of  mimic  warfare.  Many  of  the  officers 
who  watched  did,  in  fact,  compare  it  with 
scenes  they  had  witnessed  in  motion  pictures. 


A  MARTIAL  PANORAMA      229 

Despite  the  occasional  casualty,  the  line 
moved  steadily  forward.  On  reaching  the 
river,  there  was  little  effort  to  converge  at 
the  hastily  constructed  bridges.  Men  who 
were  close  enough  veered  over  to  them,  but 
the  rest  plunged  into  the  water  and  either 
waded  or  swam  across,  according  to  the 
depth  where  they  happened  to  be  and  the 
individual's  ability  to  swim. 

Once  on  the  north  side,  they  started  up 
the  long  slope  as  imperturbably  as  they  had 
come  down  the  other  side,  although  every 
man  knew  that  when  they  reached  the 
crest  of  the  rise  they  would  face  the  Ger- 
man machine  gun  fire  from  positions  on  the 
next  ridge  to  the  north. 

Without  faltering  an  instant,  the  thin 
lines  topped  the  rise  and  disappeared  from 
the  watchers  to  the  south,  and  the  fight  was 
on  again.  The  German  machine  gunners 
resisted  and  retired  foot  by  foot,  but  the 
American  advance  was  unfaltering.  It 
had  been  freely  predicted  that  the  enemy 
would  make  a  stand  on  the  high  plateau 
between  the  Vesle  and  the  Aisne,  but  the 
pressure  elsewhere  on  his  line  to  the  west 
and  north  precluded  the  possibility  of  this 
and  he  plunged  on  northward. 


230         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

The  109th  Infantry  made  its  crossing  of 
the  Vesle  about  two  and  a  half  miles  east 
of  Fismes,  the  regiment's  position  on  the 
south  of  the  river  having  been  at  Magneux. 
Its  next  objective  point  was  Muscourt. 
The  Germans  confronting  it  had  not  retired 
so  precipitately  as  those  at  Fismette  and  the 
regiment  fought  its  way  across  the  river 
and  on  northward,  losing  its  third  com- 
mander in  the  action. 

Colonel  Samuel  V.  Ham,  regular  army 
officer,  who  had  succeeded  Colonel  Coulter 
when  he  was  wounded,  led  the  firing  line 
of  the  regiment  across  the  river.  He  was 
so  severely  wounded  that  he  was  unable  to 
move,  but  remained  ten  hours  on  the  field 
looking  after  the  welfare  of  his  men.  So 
conspicuous  was  his  action  that  he  was 
cited  and  awarded  the  Distinguished  Ser- 
vice Cross,  the  official  citation  reading  as 
follows: 

"For  extraordinary  heroism  in  action 
near  Magneux,  France,  September  6,  1918. 
By  courageously  leading  his  firing  line  in 
the  advance  across  the  Vesle  River  from 
Magneux  toward  Muscourt,  Colonel  Ham 
exemplified  the  greatest  heroism  and  truest 
leadership,  instilling  in  his  men  confidence 


A  MARTIAL  PANORAMA      231 

in  their  undertaking.  Having  been  severely 
wounded  and  unable  to  move,  he  remained 
ten  hours  on  the  field  of  battle,  directing 
the  attack,  and  refused  to  leave  or  receive 
medical  attention  until  his  men  had  been 
cared  for." 

The  Pennsylvania  regiments  came  onto 
the  high  ground,  from  which  the  lowlands 
to  the  north  were  spread  out  before  them 
like  a  panorama,  and  in  the  misty  distance, 
fifteen  miles  away,  they  could  descry  the 
towers  of  the  Cathedral  at  Laon.  This 
was,  in  a  sense,  the  Allied  promised  land. 
It  was  defiled  and  invaded  France  and, 
furthermore,  Laon,  since  1914  had  been 
the  pivot  of  the  German  line,  the  bastion 
upon  which  the  great  front  made  its  turn 
from  north  and  south  to  east  and  west. 

The  five  miles  of  hill,  plateau  and  valley 
lying  between  the  Vesle  and  the  Aisne 
were  not  crossed  with  impunity.  It  was  on 
the  Aisne  plateau  that  another  company  of 
the  109th  wrote  its  name  high  on  the  scroll 
of  honor. 

A  small  wood  below  the  village  of  Villers- 
en-Prayeres  obstructed  the  advance  of  the 
regiment.  It  had  been  strongly  organized 
by  the  Germans  and  was  fairly  alive  with 


232         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Boche  machine  gunners  and  snipers.  Com- 
pany G,  of  the  old  First,  was  ordered  to 
dispose  of  it.  The  orders  were  carried  out 
in  what  the  official  communique  of  the  next 
day  referred  to  as  a  "small  but  brilliant 
operation."  Considering  the  small  extent 
of  the  action  and  the  fact  that  it  was  but 
an  incident  of  the  whole  battle,  the  fact 
that  it  was  mentioned  at  all  in  the  official 
reports  speaks  volumes  for  the  men  who 
carried  it  out. 

The  glory  and  distinction  were  won  at  a 
bitter  cost.  Company  G,  after  the  fight 
was  over,  ranked  side  by  side  with  Com- 
panies L  and  M  of  the  same  regiment  and 
B  and  C  of  the  110th  for  their  splendid 
stand  and  heavy  losses  south  of  the  Marne. 
There  were  125  casualties  in  the  company 
of  260  men.  Included  among  them  were 
Sergeant  Frederick  E.  Bauer,  Sergeant 
Graham  McConnell,  Corporal  Thomas  S.  B. 
Horn,  Private  Charles  A.  Knapp,  all  of 
Philadelphia,  and  Sergeant  John  H.  Win- 
throp,  D.  S.  C,  of  Bryn  Mawr,  killed,  and 
Lieutenant  Harold  A.  Fahr  and  Sergeant 
Earl  Prentzel,  both  of  Willow  Grove,  Pa.; 
Corporal  Theodore  G.  Smythe,  Bugler  How- 
ard W.  Munder,  Privates  Gus  A.  Faulkner, 


A  MARTIAL  PANORAMA      233 

Charles  Quenzer,  Thomas  Biddle,  Robert 
C.  Dilks,  Frederick  C.  Glenn,  Charles 
Lohmiller  and  Bernard  Horan,  all  of  Phila- 
delphia, wounded. 

Private  Paul  Helsel,  of  Doylestown,  Pa., 
a  member  of  the  same  company,  came  out 
of  the  battle  with  six  bullet  holes  through 
his  shirt,  two  through  his  breeches,  the 
bayonet  of  his  rifle  shot  away  and  a  bullet 
embedded  in  the  first  aid  packet  carried  on 
his  hip,  but  without  a  scratch  on  his  person. 

The  Americans  v^^ere  subjected  at  times 
to  a  heavy  artillery  fire,  especially  while 
crossing  the  plateau.  For  about  two  miles 
it  was  necessary  for  them  to  advance  in 
the  open  on  high  ground,  plainly  visible  to 
German  observers.  There  was  little  cover, 
and  both  heavy  and  light  artillery  swept 
the  zone,  but  with  slight  effect  and  without 
checking  to  any  degree  the  forward  move- 
ment. 

The  advance  of  the  Americans  over  the 
plateau  was  effected  without  material  loss 
because,  instead  of  advancing  in  regular 
formations,  they  were  filtered  into  and 
through  the  zone,  never  presenting  a  satis- 
factory target. 

The   German   stand   on   the   Vesle   had 


234         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

enabled  them  to  remove  the  bulk  of  the 
supplies  they  had  accumulated  there  and 
what  they  could  not  remove  they  burned. 
Vast  fires,  sending  up  clouds  of  smoke  in 
the  distance,  marked  where  ammunition 
dumps  and  other  stocks  of  supplies  were 
being  destroyed  that  they  might  not  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  Americans.  Thus  it 
was  that  the  progress  from  the  Vesle  pre- 
sented a  diflPerent  aspect  from  that  between 
the  Marne  and  the  Vesle,  where  the  way 
had  been  impeded  in  places  by  the  unimag- 
inable quantities  of  supplies  of  every  con- 
ceivable kind  the  Hun  had  abandoned  in 
his  flight. 

By  September  10th,  the  pursuit  had  come 
to  an  end,  as  far  as  the  Iron  Division  was 
concerned.  The  Americans  and  French 
were  on  the  Aisne  and  the  enemy  again  was 
snarling  defiance  across  a  water  barrier. 

The  artillery  regiments  followed  the  in- 
fantry as  far  as  the  high  ground  between 
the  rivers  and  there  took  position  to  blast 
the  Huns  away  from  the  Aisne  and  send 
them  rolling  along  to  their  next  line,  the 
ancient  and  historic  Chemin-des-Dames, 
or  Road  of  Women. 

Battery  C,  107th  Artillery,   of  Phoenix- 


A  MARTIAL  PANORAMA      ^5 

ville,  commanded  by  Captain  Samuel  A. 
Whitaker,  of  that  town,  a  nephew  of  former 
Governor  Samuel  W.  Pennypacker,  was  the 
first  of  the  Pennsylvania  big  gun  units  to 
cross  the  Vesle. 

On  the  night  of  September  10th,  the  107th 
was  relieved  by  the  221st  French  Artillery 
Regiment,  near  the  town  of  Blanzy-les- 
Fismes.  The  French  used  the  Americans' 
horses  in  moving  into  positions.  They  dis- 
covered they  had  taken  a  wrong  road  in 
moving  up  and  just  as  they  turned  back  the 
Germans,  who  apparently  had  learned  the 
hour  of  the  relief,  laid  down  a  heavy  bar- 
rage. A  terrible  toll  was  taken  of  the 
French  regiment. 

Lieutenant  John  Muckel,  of  the  Phoenix- 
ville  battery,  with  a  detail  of  men,  had 
remained  with  the  French  regiment  to 
show  them  the  battery  position  and  bring 
back  the  horses.  When  the  barrage  fell. 
Lieutenant  Muckel  was  thrown  twenty- 
five  feet  by  the  explosion  of  a  high-explosive 
shell,  and  landed  plump  in  the  mangled 
remains  of  two  horses.  All  about  him  were 
the  moans  and  cries  of  the  wounded  and 
dying  Frenchmen.  He  had  been  so  shocked 
by  the  shell  explosion  close  to  him  that  he 


236         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

could  move  only  with  difficulty  and  extreme 
pain.  He  was  barely  conscious,  alone  in 
the  dark  and  lost,  for  the  regiment  had 
gone  on  and  his  detachment  of  Americans 
was  scattered. 

Lieutenant  Muckel,  realizing  he  must  do 
something,  dragged  himself  until  he  came 
to  the  outskirts  of  a  village  he  learned  later 
was  Villet.  Half  dazed,  he  crawled  to  the 
wall  of  a  building  and  pulled  himself  to 
his  feet.  He  was  leaning  against  the  wall, 
trying  to  collect  his  scattered  senses,  when  a 
shell  struck  the  building  and  demolished  it. 

The  Lieutenant  was  half  buried  in  the 
debris.  While  he  lay  there,  fully  expecting 
never  again  to  rejoin  his  battery.  Sergeant 
Nunner,  of  the  battery,  came  along  on 
horseback  and  heard  the  officer  call.  The 
Sergeant  wanted  the  Lieutenant  to  take 
his  horse  and  get  away.  The  Lieutenant 
refused  and  ordered  the  Sergeant  to  go  and 
save  himself.  The  Sergeant  defied  the 
Lieutenant,  refusing  to  obey  and  announc- 
ing that  he  would  remain  with  the  officer  if 
the  latter  would  not  get  away  on  the 
horse.  At  last  they  compromised,  when 
the  Lieutenant  had  recovered  somewhat, 
by  the  Sergeant's  riding  the  horse  and  the 


A  MARTIAL  PANORAMA      237 

Lieutenant's  assisting  himself  by  holding 
to  the  animal's  tail.  In  this  way  they 
caught  up  with  the  battery. 

Having  reached  the  Aisne,  the  Twenty- 
eight  Division  now  was  relieved  and  ordered 
back  to  a  rest  camp,  which  they  sadly 
needed,  after  about  sixty  days  of  almost 
unremitting  night  and  day  fighting  for  the 
infantry  and  approximately  a  month  of 
stirring  action  for  the  artillery. 

Thoroughly  exhausted,  but  serene  in  the 
knowledge  of  a  task  well  and  gloriously 
performed,  their  laurels  thick  upon  them 
and  securely  in  possession  of  the  manfully 
earned  title,  "The  Iron  Division,"  what 
was  left  of  our  Pennsylvania  men  turned 
their  backs  upon  the  scene  of  action  and 
prepared  to  enjoy  a  well-earned  period  of 
repose  and  recreation. 

It  was  not  to  be,  however.  Disappoint- 
ments, of  which  they  had  been  the  prey 
for  more  than  a  year,  dogged  their  foot- 
steps. While  on  the  road,  moving  toward 
a  rest  camp  as  fast  as  they  could  travel, 
orders  reached  the  division  to  proceed 
eastward  to  where  General  Pershing  had 
begun  to  assemble  the  American  forces 
into  the  First  American  Army.     The  emer- 


238         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

gency  which  had  led  to  the  use  of  American 
brigades  under  French  and  British  higher 
command  had  passed  and  America  at  last 
was  to  have  its  own  army  under  its  own 
high  command,  subject  only  to  the  supreme 
Allied  commander,  Marshal  Ferdinand 
Foch. 

The  men  in  the  ranks  were  keenly  alive 
to  the  fact  that  they  were  headed  for  a 
rest  camp,  and  when  their  route  and  general 
direction  were  changed  overnight  and  they 
set  off  the  next  day  at  right  angles  to  the 
course  they  had  been  traveling,  they  knew 
something  else  was  in  store  for  the  division. 
Not  an  officer  or  man,  however,  had  an 
inkling  of  what  time  only  brought  forth — 
that  the  thing  they  were  about  to  do  was 
immeasurably  greater,  more  glorious  and 
more  difficult  than  that  which  they  had 
accomplished. 

Grumbling  among  themselves,  after  the 
true  soldier  fashion  when  not  too  busily 
engaged  otherwise,  the  men  found  some 
compensation  in  the  knowledge  that  their 
herculean  efforts  of  the  past  weeks  were 
understood  and  acknowledged  by  the  higher 
authorities.  They  cherished  with  open 
pride   a  general   order  issued   by   Major- 


A  MARTIAL  PANORAMA      239 

General  Charles  H.  Muir,  the  division  com- 
mander. It  was  of  special  significance 
because  he  is  a  regular  army  officer,  not  a 
Pennsylvanian,  and  therefore  not  imbued 
with  local  or  state  pride,  and  also  because 
before  the  war  the  National  Guard  was 
held  in  huge  contempt  by  the  average 
regular  army  officer.  Here  is  what  General 
Muir's  general  order  told  the  men: 

*'The  division  commander  is  authorized 
to  inform  all,  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest, 
that  their  efforts  are  known  and  appreciated. 
A  new  division,  by  force  of  circumstances, 
took  its  place  in  the  front  line  in  one  of  the 
greatest  battles  of  the  greatest  war  in 
history. 

"The  division  has  acquitted  itself  in  a 
creditable  manner.  It  has  stormed  and 
taken  points  that  were  regarded  as  proof 
against  assault.  It  has  taken  numerous 
prisoners  from  a  vaunted  Guards  division 
of  the  enemy. 

"It  has  inflicted  on  the  enemy  far  more 
loss  than  it  has  suffered  from  him.  In  a 
single  gas  application,  it  inflicted  more 
damage  than  the  enemy  inflicted  on  it  by 
gas  since  its  entry  into  battle. 

"It  is  desired  that  these  facts  be  brought 


240         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

to  the  attention  of  all,  in  order  that  the 
tendency  of  new  troops  to  allow  their 
minds  to  dwell  on  their  own  losses,  to  the 
exclusion  of  what  they  have  done  to  the 
enemy,  may  be  reduced  to  the  minimum. 

"Let  all  be  of  good  heart!  We  have 
inflicted  more  loss  than  we  have  suffered; 
we  are  better  men  individually  than  oar 
enemies.  A  little  more  grit,  a  little  more 
effort,  a  little  more  determination  to  keep 
our  enemies  down,  and  the  division  will  have 
the  right  to  look  upon  itself  as  an  organiza- 
tion of  veterans." 


CBAPTER  XVI 
In  the  Argonne 

SO  AWAY  they  went  to  the  southeast 
and  came  to  a  halt  in  the  vicinity 
of  Revigny,  just  south  of  the 
Argonne  Forest  and  about  a  mile  and  a 
half  north  of  the  Rhine-Marne  Canal. 
Here  they  found  replacement  detachments 
awaiting  them  and  once  more  the  sadly 
depleted  ranks  were  filled. 

The  division  was  under  orders  to  put  in 
ten  days  at  hard  drilling  there.  This  is  the 
military  idea  of  rest  for  soldiers,  and 
experience  has  proved  it  a  pretty  good  sys- 
tem, although  it  never  will  meet  the 
approval  of  the  man  in  the  ranks.  It  has 
the  advantage  of  keeping  his  mind  off  what 
he  has  passed  through,  keeping  him  occupied 
and  maintaining  his  discipline  and  morale. 
The  best  troops  will  go  stale  through 
neglect  of  drill  during  a  campaign,  and  drill 
and  discipline  are  almost  synonymous.  As 
undisciplined  troops  are  worse  than  useless 
in  battle,  the  necessity  of  occasional  periods 

1«  (241) 


242         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

of  drill,  distasteful  though  they  may  be  to 
the  scldier,  is  obvious. 

"A  day  in  a  rest  camp  is  about  as  bad  as 
a  day  in  battle,"  is  not  an  uncommon 
expression  from  the  men,  although,  as  is 
always  the  case  with  soldiers,  they  appre- 
ciate a  change  of  any  kind. 

This  rest  camp  and  its  drills  were  not 
destined  to  become  monotonous,  however, 
for  instead  of  ten  days  they  had  but  one 
day.  Orders  came  from  "G.  H.  Q.,"  which 
is  soldier  parlance  for  General  Head- 
quarters, for  the  division  to  proceed  almost 
directly  north,  into  the  Argonne.  This 
meant  more  hard  hiking  and  more  rough 
traveling  for  horses  and  motor  trucks  until 
the  units  again  were  "bedded  down" 
temporarily,  with  division  headquarters  at 
Les  Islettes,  twenty  miles  due  north  from 
Revigny,  and  eight  miles  south  of  what  was 
then,  and  had  been  for  many  weary  months, 
the  front  line. 

The  doughboys  knew  that  something  big 
was  impending.  They  had  come  to 
believe  that  ' 'Pershing  wouldn't  have  the 
Twenty-eighth  Division  around  unless  he 
was  going  to  pull  off  something  big." 
They  felt  more  at  home  than  they  had  since 


IN  THE  ARGONNE  24S 

leaving  America.  All  about  them  they 
saw  nothing  but  American  soldiers,  and 
thousands  upon  thousands  of  them.  The 
country  seemed  teeming  with  them.  Every 
branch  of  the  service  was  in  American 
hands,  the  first  time  the  Pennsylvanians 
had  seen  such  an  organization  of  their 
very  own — ^the  first  time  anybody  ever  did, 
in  fact,  for  it  was  the  biggest  American 
army  ever  assembled. 

Infantry,  artillery,  engineers,  the  supply 
services,  tanks,  the  air  service,  medical 
service,  the  high  command  and  the  staflF, 
all  were  American.  It  was  a  proud  day 
for  the  doughboys  when  showers  of  leaflets 
dropped  from  a  squadron  of  airplanes  flying 
over  one  day  and  they  read  on  the  printed 
pages  a  pledge  from  American  airmen  to 
co-operate  with  the  American  fighting  men 
on  the  ground  to  the  limit  of  their  ability 
and  asked  similar  co-operation  from  the 
foot  soldiers. 

"Your  signals  enable  us  to  take  the 
news  of  your  location  to  the  rear, "  read  the 
communication,  "to  report  if  the  attack  is 
successful,  to  call  for  help  if  needed,  to 
enable  the  artillery  to  put  their  shells  over 
your  heads  into  the  enemy.      If  you  are 


e44         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

out  of  ammunition  and  tell  us,  we  will 
report  and  have  it  sent  up.  If  you  are  sur- 
rounded, we  will  deliver  the  anununition 
by  airplane.  We  do  not  hike  through  the 
mud  with  you,  but  there  are  discomforts  in 
our  work  as  bad  as  mud,  but  we  won't  let 
rain,  storms,  Archies  (anti-aircraft  guns) 
nor  Boche  planes  prevent  our  getting  there 
with  the  goods.  Use  us  to  the  limit. 
After  reading  this,  hand  it  to  your  buddie 
and  remember  to  show  your  signals."  It 
was  signed:  "Your  Aviators." 

"You  bet  we  will,  all  of  that,"  was  the 
heartfelt  comment  of  the  soldiers.  Such 
was  the  splendid  spirit  of  co-operation 
built  up  by  General  Pershing  among  the 
branches  of  the  service. 

To  this  great  American  army  was 
assigned  the  tremendous  task  of  striking 
at  the  enemy's  vitals,  striking  where  it  was 
known  he  would  defend  himself  most  pas- 
sionately. The  German  defensive  lines 
converged  toward  a  point  in  the  east  like 
the  ribs  of  a  fan,  drawing  close  to  protect 
the  Mezieres-Longuyon  railroad  shuttle, 
which  was  the  vital  artery  of  Germany  in 
occupied  territory.  If  the  Americans  could 
force  a  break  through  in  the  Argonne,  the 


IN  THE  ARGONNE  M5 

whole  tottering  German  machine  in  France 
would  crumble.  Whether  they  broke 
through  or  not,  the  smallest  possible  result 
of  an  advance  there  would  be  the  narrowing 
of  the  bottle-neck  of  the  German  transport 
lines  into  Germany  and  a  slow  strangling 
of  the  invading  forces. 

After  the  first  tempestuous  rush,  there 
was  no  swift  movement.  The  Yanks  gnawed 
their  way  to  the  vaunted  Kriemhilde  line, 
hacked  and  hewed  their  way  through  it, 
overcoming  thousands  of  machine  guns, 
beset  by  every  form  of  Hun  pestilence. 
Even  conquered  ground  they  found  treach- 
erous. The  Germans  had  planted  huge 
mines  of  which  the  fuses  were  acid,  timed 
to  eat  through  a  container  days  after  the 
Germans  had  gone  and  touch  off  the 
explosive  charge  to  send  scores  of  Americans 
to  hospitals  or  to  soldiers'  graves. 

To  the  Americans,  not  bursting  fresh  into 
battle  as  they  had  done  at  Chateau-Thierry, 
but  sated  and  seasoned  by  a  long  summer  of 
campaigning,  fell  the  tough,  unspectacular 
problem  of  the  whole  western  front. 
While  the  world  hung  spellbound  on  the 
Franco-British  successes  in  the  west  and 
north,    with   their   great   bounds   forward 


%4S        THE  IRON  DIVISION 

after  the  retreating  Germans,  relatively 
little  attention  was  paid  to  the  action 
northwest  of  Verdun,  and  not  until  the 
close  of  hostilities  did  America  begin  to 
awaken  to  the  fact  that  it  was  precisely 
this  slow,  solid  pounding,  this  bulldog 
pertinacity  of  the  Americans  that  had  made 
possible  that  startling  withdrawal  in  the 
north. 

So  vital  was  this  action  in  the  Argonne 
that  the  best  divisions  the  German  high 
command  could  muster  were  sent  there  and, 
once  there,  were  chewed  to  bits  by  the 
American  machine,  thus  making  possible 
the  rapid  advances  of  the  Allies  on  other 
parts  of  the  long  front. 

The  Pennsylvania  men  looked  back 
almost  longingly  to  what  they  had  regarded 
at  the  time  as  hard,  rough  days  along  the 
Marne,  the  Ourcq  and  the  Vesle.  In  per- 
spective, and  from  the  midst  of  the  Argonne 
fighting,  it  looked  almost  like  child's  play. 
Back  home  over  the  cables  came  the  simple 
announcement  that  a  certain  position  had 
been  taken.  Followers  of  the  war  news 
got  out  their  maps  and  observed  that  this 
marked  an  advance  of  but  a  mile  or  so  in 
three   or   four   days   and   more   than   one 


IN  THE  ARGONNE  247 

asked:  "What  is  wrong  with  Pershing's 
men?"  It  was  difficult  to  understand  why 
the  men  who  had  leaped  forward  so  magnifi- 
cently from  the  Marne  to  the  Aisne,  travel- 
ing many  miles  in  a  day,  should  now  be  so 
slow,  while  their  co-belligerents  of  the  other 
nations  were  advancing  steadily  and  rapidly. 

A  very  few  minutes  spent  with  any  man 
who  was  in  the  Argonne  ought  to  suffice  as 
an  answer.  Soldiers  who  were  in  the  St. 
Mihiel  thrust  and  also  in  the  Argonne 
coined  an  epigram.  It  was:  "A  meter  in 
the  Argonne  is  worth  a  mile  at  St.  Mihiel." 
The  cable  message  of  a  few  words  nearly 
always  covered  many  hours,  sometimes 
days,  of  heroic  endeavor,  hard,  backbreak- 
ing  labor,  heart-straining  hardship  and  the 
expenditure  of  boundless  nervous  energy 
with  lavish  hand,  to.  say  nothing  of  what  it 
meant  to  the  hospital  forces  behind  the 
lines  and  to  the  burial  details. 

September  24th,  division  headquarters 
of  the  Twenty-eighth  moved  up  to  a  point 
less  than  two  miles  back  of  the  front  lines, 
occupying  old,  long-abandoned  French  dug- 
outs. That  evening  Major-General  Charles 
H.  Muir,  the  division  commander,  appeared 
unexpectedly  in  the  lines  and  walked  about 


248         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

for  some  time,  observing  the  disposition 
of  the  troops.  He  was  watched  with  wide- 
eyed  but  respectful  curiosity  by  many  of 
the  men,  for  the  average  soldier  in  the 
ranks  knows  as  little  of  a  division  com- 
mander as  of  the  Grand  Llama  of  Tibet. 
Frequently  he  cares  as  little,  too. 

The  General  cast  a  contemplative  eye 
aloft,  to  where  countless  squirrels  frolicked 
among  the  foliage  of  the  great  old  trees, 
chattering  in  wild  indignation  at  the  dis- 
turbers of  their  peace,  and  birds  sang  their 
evensong  upon  the  branches. 

The  Iron  Division  now  was  completely 
assembled,  functioning  smoothly  and  effi- 
ciently, every  unit  working  as  a  cog  in  the 
one  great  wheel.  The  artillery  brigade, 
which  had  made  its  bow  to  modem  warfare 
in  the  Vesle  region,  was  established  on  the 
line  well  to  the  rear  of  the  infantry.  It 
had  rushed  at  top  speed  from  the  Aisne 
plateau,  making  some  record  hikes.  The 
guns  were  moved  only  by  night  and  each 
day  the  weapons  were  camouflaged,  usually 
in  a  friendly  patch  of  woods.  One  night 
they  made  thirty  miles,  which  is  covering 
ground  rapidly,  even  under  the  most  fav- 
orable circumstances,  for  an  organization 


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0-P 

IN  THE  ARGONNE  249 

with  the  impedimenta  of  an  artillery- 
brigade. 

There  were  times,  in  those  long  night 
marches,  when  the  little  natural  light  from 
a  moonless  sky  was  blotted  out  by  woods 
through  which  the  roads  passed,  and  the 
artillerymen  moved  forward  in  absolute 
blackness.  To  have  a  light  of  any  kind  was 
dangerous,  because  of  the  frequent  night 
forays  by  enemy  jQyers,  and  therefore  for- 
bidden. Patrols  went  along  in  advance  to 
"feel"  the  road,  and  the  men  with  the  guns 
and  caissons  followed  by  keeping  then- 
eyes  on  the  ghostly  radiance  from  illumi- 
nated wrist  watches  worn  by  officers  with 
the  advance  patrols. 

When  it  came  to  the  work  of  placing  the 
guns  for  the  preparatory  bombardment  of 
the  offensive,  the  position  assigned  the 
Pennsylvania  regiments  was  in  a  forest  so 
dense  that  to  get  an  area  of  fire  at  all,  they 
had  to  fell  the  trees  before  them.  But  con- 
cealment of  battery  positions  in  a  surprise 
attack  is  a  vital  consideration,  and  to  have 
cut  down  hundreds  of  trees  would  have 
been  an  open  advertisement  to  enemy 
observation  planes  of  the  location  of  the 
batteries. 


250         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

To  overcome  this  difficulty,  the  trees 
which  it  was  necessary  to  remove  were 
sawed  almost  through  and  wired  up  to 
others,  which  were  untouched,  in  order  to 
keep  them  standing  to  the  last  moment. 
In  order  to  get  their  field  of  fire,  it  was  neces- 
sary for  the  men  of  some  batteries  to  cut 
and  wire  as  many  as  a  hundred  trees.  In 
this  way  everything  was  prepared  for  the 
opening  of  the  bombardment  save  the 
actual  felling  of  the  trees,  and  not  the 
keenest  eye  nor  the  finest  camera  among 
the  Boche  aviators  could  detect  a  change 
in  the  character  of  the  forest. 

At  dusk  on  the  night  of  Wednesday, 
September  25th,  the  artillerymen  cut  the 
wires  holding  the  trees  with  axes  and 
pulled  the  monarchs  of  the  forest  crashing 
to  the  ground  to  left  and  right  of  the  path 
thus  opened  up,  leaving  the  way  clear  for 
the  artillery  fire.  A  total  of  more  than  a 
thousand  trees  were  felled  in  this  way  for 
the  three  regiments. 


CHAPTER  XVn 

Million  Dollar  Barrage 

AT  ELEVEN  o'clock  that  night,  Septem- 

l\^    ber  25th,   a  signal  gun  barked  far 

-^   -^  down  the  line.    The  gunners  of  every 

battery  were  at  their  posts,  lanyards   in 

hand,  and  on  the  instant  they  pulled. 

That  has  become  known  in  the  army  as 
"the  million  dollar  barrage,"  because  en- 
listed men  figured  it  must  have  cost  at 
least  that  much.  Whatever  it  cost,  no 
man  in  that  great  army  ever  had  heard  the 
like.  It  ranged  from  the  smaller  field 
pieces  up  to  great  naval  guns  firing  shells 
sixteen  inches  in  diameter,  with  every 
variety  and  size  of  big  gun  in  the  American 
army  in  between.  There  had  been  talk 
in  the  war  of  a  bombardment  "reaching 
the  intensity  of  drum  fire."  No  drums 
the  world  ever  has  heard  could  have  pro- 
vided a  name  for  that  bombardment.  It 
was  overwhelming  in  the  immensity  of 
its  sound,  as  well  as  in  its  effect.  There 
were  3,000  guns  on  the  whole  front. 

(251) 


252         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Toward  morning,  the  twelve  ugly, 
snub-nosed  weapons  of  the  103d  Trench 
Mortar  Battery,  under  Captain  Ralph  W. 
Knowles,  of  Philadelphia,  added  their  heavy 
coughing  to  the  monstrous  serenade  which 
rent  the  night.  They  were  in  position  well 
up  to  the  front,  and  their  great  bombs  were 
designed  to  cut  paths  through  the  enemy 
barbed  wire  and  other  barriers  so  the 
infantry  could  go  forward  with  as  little 
trouble  as  possible. 

Zero  hour  for  the  infantry  was  5.30 
o'clock  on  that  morning  of  September  26th. 
Watches  of  officers  and  non-commissioned 
officers  had  been  carefully  adjusted  to  the 
second  the  night  before  and  when  the 
moment  arrived,  the  long  lines  went  over 
the  top  without  further  notice. 

The  former  National  Guard  of  Penn- 
sylvania was  but  one  division  among  a 
great  many  in  that  attack,  which  covered  a 
front  of  fifty-four  miles  from  the  Meuse  clear 
over  into  the  Champagne  and  which  linked 
up  there  with  the  rest  of  the  whole  flaming 
western  front.  The  American  army  alone 
covered  twenty  miles  of  attacking  front, 
and  beyond  them  extended  General  Gour- 
ard's  French  army  to  the  wesL 


MILLION  DOLLAR  BARRAGE    253 

The  full  effect  and  result  of  the  artillery 
preparation  was  realized  only  when  the 
infantry  went  over  the  top.  The  early 
stages  of  the  advance  were  described  by 
observers  as  being  more  like  a  football 
game  than  a  battle.  The  route  was  vir- 
tually clear  of  prepared  obstructions, 
although  there  was  hardly  a  stretch  of  six 
feet  of  level  ground,  and  the  German  opposi- 
tion was  almost  paralyzed. 

The  whole  field  of  the  forward  movement 
was  so  pitted  with  shell  craters  as  to  make 
the  going  almost  like  mountain  climbing. 
Over  this  field  a  part  of  the  great  battle 
of  Verdun  in  1916  had  been  fought  and 
the  pits  scooped  out  by  the  artillery  of  that 
time,  added  to  those  due  to  the  constant 
minor  fire  since,  lay  so  close  together  that 
it  was  utterly  impossible  for  all  the  men  to 
make  their  way  between.  The  craters  left 
from  the  Verdun  battle  could  be  dis- 
tinguished by  the  fact  that  their  sides  were 
covered  with  grass  and  that  once  in  a 
while  a  few  bones  were  to  be  seen,  melan- 
choly reminder  of  the  brave  men  who  died 
there. 

Seen  from  observation  posts  in  the  rear, 
the  advancing  soldiers  presented  an  odd 


254         THE   IRON   DIVISION 

picture,  dropping  suddenly  from  view  as 
they  went  into  a  hole,  then  reappearing, 
clambering  up  the  far  side.  They  jumped 
over  the  edges,  often  into  a  pool  of  stag- 
nant water  with  a  bottom  of  slimy  mud, 
and  the  climbing  out  was  no  easy  task, 
burdened  as  they  were  with  equipment. 

It  was  now  the  season  of  the  year  when 
the  days  are  still  fairly  warm,  but  the 
nights  are  keen  and  frosty.  The  men 
started  out  in  the  chill  of  the  morning  with 
their  slickers,  but  as  the  day  advanced  they 
began  to  feel  these  an  unbearable  impedi- 
ment in  the  heat  and  rush  of  battle  and 
they  discarded  them.  When  night  came 
they  bitterly  cursed  their  folly,  for  they 
were  wretched  with  the  cold. 

The  early  morning  was  gray  and  for- 
bidding. A  heavy  mist  covered  the  land, 
hampering  the  air  force  in  their  work  of 
observation,  but  overhead  the  sky  was 
clear,  giving  promise  of  better  visibility 
when  the  sun  should  heat  the  atmosphere 
and  drive  the  mists  away. 

The  infantry,  with  machine  gunners  in 
dose  support,  went  forward  rapidly.  They 
came  to  the  first  German  trench  line  and 
crossed  it  almost  without  opposition.     A 


MILLION  DOLLAR  BARRAGE    255 

surprising  number  of  Germans  emerged 
from  dugouts,  hands  up,  and  inquired 
directions  to  the  prison  cages  in  the  Ameri- 
can rear.  The  Pennsylvanians  were  just 
beginning  to  feel  the  effect  of  the  loss  of 
morale  in  the  enemy  army. 

To  the  surprise  of  our  doughboys,  the 
artillery  opposing  them  was  weak  and 
ineffectual.  To  this  fact  is  attributed  the 
great  number  of  what  are  known  as  ** clean" 
wounds  in  the  Argonne  fight — ^bullet  wounds 
which  make  a  clean  hole  and  heal  quickly. 
In  view  of  the  great  number  of  men  struck 
during  this  campaign,  it  is  extremely  for- 
tunate that  this  was  so.  Had  the  German 
artillery  been  anything  like  what  it  had 
been  in  other  battles,  our  casualty  lists 
would  have  been  much  more  terrible,  for 
it  is  the  shrapnel  and  big  shells  that  tear 
men  to  pieces. 

Beyond  the  first  German  line,  which  was 
just  south  of  Grand  Boureuilles  and  Petite 
Boureuilles,  on  opposite  sides  of  the  Aire 
river,  the  German  defenses  had  not  been  so 
thoroughly  destroyed  and  the  resistance 
began  to  stiffen.  Out  from  their  shelters, 
as  soon  as  the  American  barrage  had  passed 
them,  came  hordes  of  Germans  to  man  their 


256         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

concealed  machine  gun  nests.  The  lessons 
of  the  Marne-Aisne  drive  had  been  well 
learned  by  tlie  Pennsylvanians,  and  there 
were  few  frontal  assaults  on  these  strong 
points,  many  of  which  were  the  famous 
concrete  "pill  boxes" — holes  in  the  earth 
roofed  over  with  rounded  concrete  and 
concealed  by  foliage  and  branches,  with 
narrow  slits  a  few  inches  above  the  surface 
of  the  earth  to  permit  the  guns  to  be  sighted 
and  fired. 

When  the  infantry  came  to  one  of  these 
that  spat  flame  and  steel  in  such  volume 
that  a  direct  attack  threatened  to  be 
extremely  costly,  they  passed  around  it 
through  the  woods  on  either  flank  and  left 
it  to  be  handled  by  the  forces  coming  up 
immediately  in  their  rear,  with  trench  mor- 
tars and  one-pounder  cannon,  capable  of 
demolishing  the  concrete  structures. 

The  infantry  passed  beyond  the  area  in 
which  the  artillery  and  trench  mortars 
had  wiped  out  the  barbed  wire  and  ran 
into  much  difficulty  with  the  astounding 
network  of  this  defensive  material  woven 
through  the  trees.  The  Germans  had 
boasted  that  the  Argonne  forest  was  a 
wooded  fortress  that  never  could  be  taken. 


MILLION  DOLLAR  BARRAGE    £57 

American  troops  proved  the  vanity  of  that 
boast,  but  they  went  through  an  inferno 
to  do  it.  The  wire  was  a  maze,  laced 
through  the  forest  from  tree  to  tree,  so 
that  hours  were  consumed  in  covering 
ground  which,  but  for  the  wire,  could  have 
been  covered  in  almost  as  many  minutes. 
The  men  had  literally  to  cut  and  hack 
their  way  through  yard  after  yard. 

The  towns  of  Boureuilles,  great  and  small, 
were  cleaned  up  after  smart  fighting,  and 
the  advance  was  continued  up  the  beauti- 
ful Aire  River  valley  in  the  direction  of 
Varennes. 

The  Pennsylvania  infantry  was  advanc- 
ing in  two  columns.  The  55th  Brigade, 
including  the  109th  and  110th  Infantry 
regiments,  was  right  along  the  river,  and 
the  56th  Brigade,  made  up  of  the  111th 
and  112th,  went  through  the  forest  on  the 
left,  or  west  of  the  river.  On  the  right  of 
the  Twenty-eighth  Division  was  the  Thu*- 
tieth  Division,  consisting  of  National  Guard 
troops  of  North  and  South  Carolina  and 
Tennessee,  and  on  the  left  was  the  Seventy- 
seventh  Division,  selected  men  from  New 
York  State. 

The  town  of  Varennes  stands  in  a  bowl- 


258         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

shaped  valley,  rich  in  historic  significance 
and,  at  the  time  our  men  reached  there, 
gorgeous  in  the  autumnal  colorings  of  the 
trees.  It  was  at  Varennes  that  Louis  XVI 
was  captured  when  he  attempted  to  escape 
from  France. 

Coming  up  from  the  south  to  the  high 
ground  surrounding  Varennes,  the  Iron 
Division  forged  ahead  faster  than  the  troops 
on  their  right  could  move  through  the 
forest.  Before  the  officers  and  men  of  the 
liaison  service  could  apprise  the  Pennsyl- 
vania commanders  of  this  fact,  they  dis- 
covered it  for  themselves  when  a  hot  fire 
was  poured  in  on  their  flank  from  German 
"pill  boxes"  and  other  strong  points. 

It  was  decided,  since  the  troops  were  roll- 
ing onward  in  fine  style,  not  to  halt  the 
division  while  the  other  division  caught  up, 
so  Major  Thompson  was  sent  off  to  the 
east  with  a  battalion  of  the  110th  to  look 
after  that  flanking  fire.  The  battalion 
disappeared  into  the  woods,  and  in  a  little 
while  a  sharp  increase  in  the  sound  of  the 
firing  from  that  direction  indicated  that  it 
was  hard  at  work.  After  some  time  it 
came  back  into  its  position  in  the  line.  The 
other  division  had  easier  going  for  a  time 


MILLION  DOLLAR  BARRAGE    £59 

as  a  result  of  the  efforts  of  the  four  com- 
panies of  Pennsylvanians,  and  the  embar- 
rassing fire  from  the  right  flank  was 
silenced. 

After  a  number  of  the  German  "pill 
boxes"  had  been  reduced  and  entered  by 
the  Pennsylvania  troops,  it  was  discovered 
that  they  were,  like  so  many  other  German 
contrivances  and  devices  of  the  war,  largely 
bluff.  In  instance  after  instance,  where  the 
intensity  of  the  fire  from  these  places  had 
led  our  men  to  expect  a  garrison  of  a  dozen 
men  they  found  only  one.  The  retreating 
Germans  had  left  a  single  soldier  with  a 
large  supply  of  rifles  to  give  the  impression 
of  a  considerable  force  manning  the  fort. 
Prisoners  said  their  instructions  had  been 
to  fire  as  rapidly  as  possible  and  as  long  as 
possible  and  to  die  fighting,  without  thought 
of  surrender. 

When  the  Pennsylvanians  forced  their 
way  to  the  lower  crest  of  the  ridge  looking 
down  into  the  valley  where  Varennes  lies, 
the  edge  of  the  Argonne  forest  to  the  west- 
ward still  was  occupied  by  enemy  machine 
gunners.  Officers  of  the  division  stepped 
out  from  the  shelter  of  trees  and  looked  over 
the  ground  with  their  glasses  to  plan  the 


260         THE  IRON   DIVISION 

next  phase  of  the  attack,  German  snipers 
promptly  sighted  them  and  in  a  moment 
bullets  were  singing  through  the  trees 
above  their  heads  and  to  both  sides,  but 
they  remained  unperturbed. 

"  Get  me  an  idea  of  what  is  over  in  that 
wood,"  said  General  Muir  to  his  aides,  and 
Lieutenant  Raymond  A.  Brown,  of  Mead- 
ville.  Pa.,  and  Captain  William  B.  Morgan, 
of  Beverly,  Mass.,  started  out  on  the  risky 
mission.  Lieutenant  Brown's  pistol  was 
packed  in  his  blanket  roll.  He  borrowed  a 
rifle  and  a  cartridge  belt  from  a  private 
soldier.  Three  hours  later  they  returned 
and  made  reports  upon  which  were  based 
the  next  actions  of  the  troops.  They  told 
nothing  of  their  experiences,  but  Lieutenant 
Brown  had  added  a  German  wrist  watch  to 
his  equipment  and  Captain  Morgan  showed 
a  pair  of  shoulder  straps  which  indicated 
that  the  troops  opposing  them  were 
Brandenburgers. 

As  they  went  down  the  far  side  of  the 
hill  toward  Varennes,  the  Pennsylvania  sol- 
diers saw  an  amazing  evidence  of  German 
industry.  The  whole  slope  was  pains- 
takingly terraced  and  fm^nished  with  dug- 
outs in  tiers,  leading  off  the  terraces.     The 


MILLION  DOLLAR  BARRAGE    261 

shelters  of  the  officers  were  fitted  out  with 
attractive  porticos  and  arbors. 

As  evidence  of  the  hurried  retreat  of  the 
Huns,  who  apparently  had  not  dreamed  the 
Americans  could  advance  so  swiftly  through 
their  leafy  fortress,  a  luncheon,  untouched, 
lay  upon  a  table  in  an  officer's  dugout.  At 
the  head  of  the  table  was  an  unopened 
letter. 

In  another  dugout  was  an  upright  piano, 
which  must  have  been  looted  from  the 
town  and  lugged  up  the  hill  at  the  cost  of 
great  labor.  But,  most  astonishing  of  all, 
upon  the  piano  was  sheet  music  published 
in  New  York,  as  shown  by  the  pubUsher's 
name,  long  after  America  entered  the  war. 
Our  officers  puzzled  long  over  how  the 
music  could  have  got  there,  but  found  no 
solution. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
"An  Enviable  Reputation'* 

VARENNES  itself  was  virtually  a 
wreck  by  the  time  our  men  reached 
it.  Most  of  the  buildings  were  cut 
off  about  the  second  story  by  shell  fire. 
An  electric  plant,  installed  by  the  Germans 
and  which  they  had  attempted  to  wreck 
before  leaving,  was  repaired  by  Pennsyl- 
vania mechanics  and  soon  was  ready  to 
furnish  illumination  for  the  Americans. 

Crates  of  live  rabbits,  left  behind  by  the 
Germans  in  their  flight,  were  found  by  the 
Pennsylvanians  and  turned  over  to  the 
supply  ofiicers,  and  in  the  evening  an 
ojBBcers'  mess  sat  down  to  a  stewed  rabbit 
dinner  in  the  open  square  of  the  ruined 
town,  in  the  shadow  of  the  gaping  sides  of 
the  wrecked  church.  In  addition  to  the 
army  ration  issue,  the  meal  and  others  for 
some  days  were  helped  out  by  a  plentiful 
supply  of  cabbage,  radishes,  potatoes,  cauli- 
flower, turnips  and  other  vegetables,  taken 
from  the  pretty  little  gardens  which  the 

(262) 


"AN  ENVIABLE  REPUTATION"    263 

Germans  had  planted  and  carefully  nur- 
tured. 

While  the  Pennsylvanians  were  at 
Varennes,  a  great  automobile  came  roaring 
down  the  hill  from  the  south  and  slithered 
to  a  halt  where  a  group  of  our  soldiers  had 
been  lolling  on  the  ground  resting.  They 
were  not  there  by  the  time  the  car  stopped. 
Instead,  they  were  erect  and  soldierly, 
every  man  at  attention  and  hands  jerked 
up  to  the  salute  with  sharp  precision. 
For  the  flag  upon  the  car  bore  four 
stars  and  it  was  all  the  men  could  do 
to  keep  from  rude  "gaping"  at  the  tall, 
handsome  man  inside,  who  called  to  them 
pleasantly: 

"What  division  is  this.?" 

Most  of  the  men  were  tongue-tied  with 
surprise  and  embarrassment,  but  one 
responded: 

"The  Twenty-eighth,  sir." 

"Ah !  You  have  an  enviable  reputation," 
was  the  reply  from  the  man  in  the  car. 
"I  should  like  to  lunch  with  your  division 
today." 

Which  he  thereupon  proceeded  to  do. 
As  the  car  passed  on,  a  group  of  very 
red-faced  private  soldiers  looked  each  other 


264         THE  IRON   DIVISION 

in  tlie  eye  in  a  startled  way  and  one  voiced 
the  thought  of  all  when  he  said : 

"And  that  was  General  Pershing!  And 
he  spoke  to  us !     Gee ! " 

The  103d  Engineers  again  were  covering 
themselves  with  glory  in  this  Argonne  drive. 
Time  after  time  they  were  sent  out  to 
repair  existing  roads  and  construct  new 
ones,  often  working  right  on  the  heels  of 
the  infantry,  for  only  after  they  had  per- 
formed their  work  could  supphes  be  brought 
up  to  the  fighting  troops  and  the  artillery 
maintain  position  to  continue  the  barrage  in 
advance  of  the  infantry  and  machine  gunners. 

The  103d  Supply  Train,  too,  performed 
its  work  under  incredible  difficulties. 
Doughboys  rarely  thought  to  give  a  word 
of  praise  to  the  men  of  the  big  camions. 
More  often  their  comment  was:  "Gee! 
Pretty  soft  for  you  fellows,  riding  around 
in  a  high-powered  truck  while  we  slog 
tlirough  the  mud  I " 

But  to  those  who  knew  of  the  trying 
night  drives  in  utter  darkness  over  roads 
which  not  only  were  torn  to  tatters  already 
by  shells,  but  which  were  subject  at  any 
time  to  renewed  shelling;  of  the  long 
stretches  without  sleep  or  food  or  drink; 


"  AN  ENVIABLE  REPUTATION  "    ^65 

of  the  struggles  with  motors  and  other 
parts  of  the  trucks  which  fell  heir  to  every 
kind  of  trouble  such  things  are  liable  to 
under  great  stress — only  to  that  under- 
standing few,  and  to  the  supply  chaps 
themselves,  were  their  activities  regarded 
as  subject  for  praisefid  comment.  Had 
the  supply  train  "fallen  down  on  the 
job"  and  "chow"  not  been  ready  at  every 
opportunity — ^which  truly  were  few  and  far 
enough  between — Oh,  then  the  doughboys 
would  have  howled  in  execration  at  their 
brothers  of  the  big  lorries. 

The  same  kind  of  credit  was  due  as 
much  and  given  as  rarely  to  the  103d 
Ammunition  Train,  which  kept  all  the 
fighting  men  supplied  without  stint  and 
without  break  with  the  necessary  powder 
and  steel  to  keep  the  Hun  on  the  run. 

Even  the  men  of  the  four  field  hospitals 
found  themselves  nearer  the  front  than 
such  organizations  usually  go.  So  well 
had  the  plans  been  laid  for  that  opening 
assault  that  it  was  realized  the  hospitals 
would  have  to  be  well  forward  to  avoid 
too  long  a  carry  for  the  wounded  after  the 
first  rush  had  carried  our  men  well  beyond 
their  "jumping-off -place." 


266         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

The  hospitals  took  position  during  the 
night  and  erected  their  tents,  so  they 
would  not  be  subject  to  air  bombing  before 
the  attack  and  so  their  presence  would  not 
betray  the  concentration  of  forces.  French 
oflScers  who  passed  along  the  American 
front  inspecting  it  the  night  before  the 
assault  were  amazed  at  this  concentration, 
and  so  were  the  field  hospital  men  when  the 
bombardment  was  started  and  they  found 
themselves  far  ahead  of  the  big  guns. 
In  the  morning  they  discovered,  to  their 
astonishment,  that  they  had  been  thrust 
in  between  the  first  line  of  infantry  and 
the  support. 

Throughout  the  Argonne  fighting,  as 
they  had  done  from  the  beginning  of  the 
division's  activities,  they  performed  their 
work  in  as  thorough  and  capable  a  manner 
as  did  any  of  the  organizations  in  the 
division,  and  found  their  chief  recompense 
in  the  gratitude  of  the  wounded  and  suffer- 
ing who  passed  through  their  hands. 

As  the  two  Pennsylvania  columns  bat- 
tered their  way  forward,  a  double  liaison 
service  was  maintained  between  them,  first 
by  patrols  of  men  and  second  by  telephone 
communication.     The  service  of  eommuni- 


"AN  ENVIABLE  REPUTATION  '*    267 

cation  was  presided  over  by  Colonel  Walter 
C.  Sweeney,  chief  of  the  divisional  staff, 
originally  a  Philadelphian,  but  now  hailing 
from  Virginia. 

The  circuit  of  communication  was  not 
broken  once,  largely  because  of  the  alertness 
and  ability  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Sydney 
A.  Hagerling,  of  Pittsburgh,  the  divi- 
sional signal  officer,  and  the  staunch,  untir- 
ing and  efficient  work  of  the  103d  Field 
Signal  Battalion.  Each  brigade  com- 
mander knew  always  precisely  how  far  the 
other  had  advanced.  Both  regular  army 
men,  they  united  in  giving  full  credit  for 
the  remarkably  successful  advance  to  the 
high  quality  of  the  troops,  the  superb 
handling  of  the  artillery  by  Brigadier- 
General  Price  and  the  unexcelled  team- 
work of  officers  and  men  of  each  branch 
of  the  service  and  of  branch  with  branch. 

At  one  time,  emphasizing  this  remarkable 
spirit  within  the  division,  Major-General 
Muir  appeared  in  the  front  lines  one  morn- 
ing, just  as  the  first  wave  of  infantrymen 
was  about  to  go  over  in  a  charge  against  a 
machine  gun  nest.  Standing  talking  to  the 
regimental  commander.  General  Muir  fidg- 
eted for  a  few  moments  and  then  said: 


268         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

"I  think  I'll  command  one  of  those 
companies  myself." 

To  the  amazement  and  great  glee  of 
officers  and  men,  he  did,  the  commander 
of  the  chosen  company  acting  as  second 
in  command.  Enemy  shells  landed  all 
about  the  General,  who  manifested  as 
much  agility  and  energy  as  the  youngest 
private.  A  shell  fell  within  twenty-five 
feet  of  him,  but  fortunately  it  was  a  "dud," 
or  one  which  failed  to  explode.  There  was 
vicious  machine  gun  fire  all  about,  but  the 
nest  was  cleaned  out  and  prisoners  and 
guns  were  captured.  General  Muir  rejoined 
the  Colonel.  He  was  breathing  hardly 
faster  than  usual  as  he  remarked: 

"That  was  fine!  It  took  me  back  to  the 
old  days  in  the  Philippines." 

A  few  days  later,  the  General  was  out 
again  among  the  troops,  accompanied  by 
Colonel  Sweeney,  Captain  Theodore  D. 
Boal,  of  Boalsburg,  Pa.,  Lieutenant  Edward 
Hoopes,  of  West  Chester,  and  Corporal 
Olin  McDonald,  of  Sunbury,  all  of  his 
staff. 

German  planes  were  hovering  overhead 
and  suddenly  one  of  them  dropped  Uke  a 
plummet  to  a  few  hundred  feet  above  the 


"AN  ENVIABLE  REPUTATION"    269 

ground  and  began  to  spit  machine  gun 
bullets  at  the  group.  A  wounded  soldier 
had  just  come  out  of  the  woods,  stood  his 
rifle  against  a  tree  and  started  back  to  a 
first  aid  station.  General  Muir  seized 
the  rifle,  took  careful  aim  at  the  flyer, 
about  three  hundred  feet  above,  and  fired 
twice.  Whether  he  scored  a  hit  could  not 
be  determined,  but  the  airman  fled  after  the 
second  shot. 

In  the  course  of  the  advance,  the  artillery 
went  forward  in  echelons.  That  is,  bat- 
teries from  the  rear  moved  up  and  took 
position  in  advance  of  other  batteries 
which  maintained  the  fire,  passing  between 
the  guns  on  their  way.  After  they  were  in 
position  to  fire,  the  one  farther  back 
ceased  fire  and  the  process  was  repeated. 

The  Pennsylvania  artillery  cut  a  swath 
two  miles  wide  through  the  forest,  doing 
their  work  so  thoroughly  that  beautiful 
green  hills  which  could  be  descried  by 
powerful  glasses  in  the  distance  were,  by 
the  time  the  beholders  reached  them, 
nothing  but  shell-pitted,  blackened  mounds, 
ragged  with  beards  of  shattered  and  splint- 
ered trees,  looking  for  all  the  world,  as  men 
from  the  Pennsylvania  mountain  country 


270         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

observed,  like  the  hills  at  home  after  a 
forest  fire. 

When  the  artillery  reached  Varennes, 
which  was,  of  course,  not  until  after  the 
infantry  had  gone  far  beyond,  they  ran 
into  a  severe  enemy  shelling.  On  October 
2d,  First  Sergeant  T.  O.  Mader,  of  Auden- 
ried,  Luzerne  county,  a  member  of  Bat- 
tery A,  109th  Artillery,  performed  the  deeds 
which  won  for  him  oflficial  citation  and  the 
Distinguished  Service  Cross. 

He  helped  to  guide  sections  of  the 
battery  over  a  shell-swept  road,  when  the 
fire  was  so  severe  that  eight  men  were 
wounded  and  ten  horses  killed.  The  horse 
that  Sergeant  Mader  rode  was  killed  under 
him.  The  driver  of  a  swing  team  had 
difficulty  in  controlling  the  horses  of  a 
section  and  Sergeant  Mader  sent  him  to 
another  section  and  himself  took  charge  of 
the  fractious  team.  He  continued  with 
the  section  until  he  was  so  badly  wounded 
he  was  unable  to  control  the  frantic  horses. 
He  refused  to  have  his  wounds  treated, 
however,  and  continued  to  direct  the  gun 
carriages  to  places  of  safety.  Then,  dis- 
regarding his  own  condition,  he  requested 
the  medical  officers  to  give  first  attention 


"AN  ENVIABLE  REPUTATION"    271 

to  other  wounded  men.  The  official  cita- 
tion declared  that  "Sergeant  Mader's  con- 
duct was  an  inspiration  to  the  men  of  his 
battery." 

Another  ** second  in  command"  was  put 
out  of  action  at  this  time,  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Olin  F.  Harvey,  of  the  109th 
Artillery,  being  severely  wounded  in  the 
leg  by  a  shell  fragment. 

Beyond  Varennes,  the  infantry  found  the 
going  harder  than  before — ^much  harder 
than  anything  they  had  encountered  since 
going  to  France.  The  Germans  had  their 
backs  to  their  boasted  Brunnhilde  line  and 
fought  with  the  desperation  of  despair  to 
hold  off  the  advancing  Americans  until 
their  vast  armies  in  the  north  could  extri- 
cate themselves  from  the  net  Marshal  Foch 
had  spread  for  them  with  such  consummate 
skill. 

Montblaineville  and  Baulny  presented 
but  temporary  problems  to  troops  flushed 
with  victory,  and  they  pushed  on  toward 
Apremont,  below  which  they  suffered  the 
first  serious  check  of  the  drive.  Once  more 
there  was  need  for  tremendous  effort  and 
heroic  endeavor  and  once  more  the  Penn- 
sylvania troops  measured  up  to  the  need. 


m         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Men  who  had  distinguished  themselves  on 
the  Mame,  the  Ourcq,  the  Vesle  and  Aisne 
lived  nobly  up  to  the  reputations  for  bravery 
they  had  already  established,  and  they 
were  emulated  in  inspiring  style  by  men 
whose  names  had  not  before  figured  in  the 
division's  record  of  honor. 

The  trench  mortar  battery  of  the  artil- 
lery brigade  was  rivaled  by  men  of  the 
trench  mortar  platoons  attached  to  the 
headquarters  companies  of  the  various 
infantry  regiments,  who  carried  their  heavy 
weapons  through  the  almost  fathomless 
mud,  in  and  out  of  shell  craters,  exhausted 
by  the  heat  of  the  days  and  the  bone- 
chilling  cold  of  the  nights.  In  spite  of 
their  heavy  burdens,  the  mortar  platoons 
always  were  close  at  hand  when  the  infantry 
stopped,  baffled  by  the  mazes  of  wire,  and 
called  for  the  ** flying  pigs"  to  open  a  path. 

Men  of  every  regiment  filled  stellar  r6les 
in  this  smashing  advance.  Lieutenant 
Godfrey  Smith,  of  Gwynedd  Valley,  Pa., 
overcame  innumerable  obstacles  and  passed 
through  many  dangers  to  establish  and 
maintain  telephone  communication  between 
the  advance  posts  and  the  rear  areas  of 
the  112th  Infantry.     Color-Sergeant  Miles 


"AN  ENVIABLE  REPUTATION''    273 

Shoup,  of  Braddock,  had  charge  of  the 
runners  and  Haison  work  and  displayed 
great  personal  bravery. 

Shoup  had  the  reputation  among  the 
other  men  of  bearing  a  charmed  life  and  he 
was  termed  "a  remarkable  soldier"  by 
more  than  one  officer.  In  the  advance  of  the 
morning  of  September  28th,  Colonel  Dubb 
became  separated  and  Shoup  volunteered 
to  search  for  him.  He  located  the  Colonel 
after  passing  unscathed  through  a  terrific 
artillery  and  machine  gun  fire,  then  returned 
the  same  way  and  organized  additional 
runners  to  keep  the  communications  intact. 

At  night  the  Germans  suddenly  opened  a 
smart  barrage  with  big  guns  and  men  of 
the  112th  became  scattered.  Lieutenant 
Smith  assembled  the  men  while  the  fire 
was  going  on,  finding  them  in  various  shel- 
ters. It  was  necessary  to  wear  masks 
because  the  Boche  was  mixing  an  occasional 
gas  shell  with  his  shrapnel  and  high  explo- 
sives, but  Lieutenant  Smith  persisted  until 
he  had  returned  the  men  to  their  various 
battalion  positions  and  reorganized  the 
companies. 

On  another  occasion.  Lieutenant  Smith 
was  laying  telephone  wire  with  a  detail  of 

18 


274         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

headquarters  company  men.  When  the 
supply  of  wbe  ran  out,  he  crawled  through 
the  woods  to  a  German  telephone  line, 
within  a  short  distance  of  German  posi- 
tions, cut  the  wire  and  brought  back 
enough  to  continue  laying  his  own  line. 

An  oflficer  of  the  112th  noticed  that  every 
time  he  called  for  a  runner  from  any  one  of 
three  companies,  it  was  always  the  same 
man  who  responded.  The  man  was  Private 
Charles  J.  Ryan,  of  Harrisburg,  a  member  of 
Company  I.  When  a  lull  came  in  the 
activity,  the  officer  investigated  in  person, 
because  the  men  assigned  to  act  as  runners 
should  have  taken  turns  and  he  suspected 
the  others  were  imposing  on  Ryan,  which 
is  subversive  of  discipline.  To  his  amaze- 
ment, he  learned  from  the  unanimous  ac- 
counts of  all  the  men,  including  Ryan,  that 
the  latter  had  insisted  that  the  other  run- 
ners should  let  him  take  all  the  assign- 
ments to  duty.  The  officer  put  a  stop  to 
the  method. 

France  puts  her  clergymen  into  the  army 
as  fighting  men,  on  the  same  basis  as  any 
other  men.  America  exempts  men  of  the 
cloth  from  military  service,  but  offers 
tiiem  an  opportunity  to  serve  their  country 


**AN  ENVIABLE  REPUTATION"    275 

and  humanity,  as  well  as  their  calling,  by 
acting  as  chaplains  to  the  fighting  men. 
As  such,  they  are  supposed  to  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  fighting.  But  there  come 
times,  in  the  heat  and  rush  of  battle,  when 
quick  action  by  the  nearest  man  of  ability 
and  judgment  points  the  way  to  victory. 

Such  an  occasion  arose  on  the  second  day 
of  the  Argonne  drive,  when  all  the  ofiicers 
of  a  battalion  of  the  111th  Infantry  were 
incapacitated.  Lieutenant  Charles  G. 
Conaty,  of  Boston,  a  Catholic  priest  who 
was  a  chaplain  in  the  111th,  was  the  only 
commissioned  officer  remaining  with  the 
battalion.  He  promptly  jumped  into  the 
breach  and  led  the  men  in  a  victorious 
charge.  Lieutenant  Conaty  had  not  long 
recovered  at  that  time  from  the  effects  of 
gas  which  he  inhaled  while  working  close  to 
the  lines  in  the  Marne-Vesle  drive. 

A  German  sniper  wounded  the  "bunkie" 
of  Thomas  Corry,  of  Pittsburgh,  a  member 
of  Company  I,  111th  Infantry.  Corry 
started  out  to  stalk  the  sniper  in  revenge. 
He  spent  the  whole  day  at  it  and  returned 
with  half  a  dozen  prisoners,  all  the  snipers 
he  had  found  except  the  ones  who  showed 
fight  and  had  to  be  killed. 


276         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

A  major  of  the  111th  at  one  time  sent  a 
runner  to  the  109th  machine  gun  battalion 
to  ask  for  immediate  assistance.  Company 
B  of  the  gunners,  under  Captain  Daniel 
Burke  Strickler,  of  Columbia,  Pa.,  set  out 
at  once  with  a  guide.  They  followed  the 
guide  over  one  hill,  but  saw  no  sign  either 
of  the  enemy  or  a  hard-pressed  battalion 
of  their  own  men.  At  the  bottom  of  the 
next  hill,  Captain  Strickler  called  a  halt 
and  asked  the  guide  if  he  were  sure  the 
battalion  was  at  the  top. 

The  guide  replied  that  they  were  hardly 
100  yards  away  and  started  up  the  hill 
alone  to  make  sure.  He  had  gone  not 
more  than  twenty  feet  when  a  masked 
machine  gun  battery  opened  up  and  the 
guide  was  shot  to  ribbons.  Captain  Strickler 
ascertained  the  location  of  the  infantry  lines 
from  a  wounded  man  who  happened  along 
on  his  way  to  the  rear  and  started  for  them. 

The  infantry,  however,  had  been  having  a 
hard  time  and  had  been  directed  to  retire 
while  the  artillery  laid  down  a  barrage. 
Unaware  of  this.  Captain  Strickler  led  his 
men  up  the  hill  and  walked  into  the  edge 
of  our  own  barrage,  but  the  company 
escaped  without  the  loss  of  a  man. 


"AN  ENVIABLE  REPUTATION"    277 

The  effect  of  the  American  pressure  now 
was  being  felt  far  behind  the  German  front 
lines,  as  was  evidenced  by  the  sheets  of 
flame  by  night  and  clouds  of  smoke  by  day 
which  signaled  the  burning  of  heaps  of 
stores  and  the  explosion  of  ammunition 
dumps  far  to  the  north. 

Advancing  around  Apremont,  the  111th 
ran  into  difficulties  and  was  delayed.  Run- 
ners carried  the  word  to  the  55th  Brigade 
and  Captain  Meelian  and  a  battalion  of  the 
109th  were  detached  and  sent  over  to  help. 
They  cleaned  out  the  Bois  de  la  T'Aibbe, 
which  was  strongly  garrisoned  and  offered 
a  next  to  impregnable  front,  so  that  when 
the  111th  disposed  of  its  immediate  diffi- 
culties it  was  able  to  move  up  to  the  same 
front  as  the  rest  of  the  regiments. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Ensanguined  Apremont 

THE  taking  of  Apremont  was  the 
greatest  struggle  the  division  had 
in  its  fighting  career.  Much  has 
been  said  and  written  during  the  war  of 
"the  blood-soaked  fields  of  France"  and 
"streams  of  blood."  Officers  who  were 
at  Apremont  solemnly  vouch  for  the  fact 
that  there  was  a  time  in  that  town  when 
the  water  running  in  the  gutters  was  bright 
red  with  blood. 

And  not  all  of  it  was  German  blood. 
The  town  was  held  in  force,  much  as 
Fismes  and  Fismette  had  been,  and  pre- 
sented much  the  same  problem.  So  strong 
was  the  position  that  every  approach  to  it 
was  covered  by  heavy  concentrations  of 
machine  guns  and  snipers.  No  longer 
were  one  or  two  Germans  left  in  a  nest  to 
fire  many  guns  as  fast  as  they  could.  The 
enemy  had  brought  up  strong  reinforce- 
ments of  comparatively  fresh  troops  and 
gave  every  evidence  of  a  determination  to 

(278) 


ENSANGUINED  APREMONT    279 

stand.  Not  until  compelled  to  by  superior 
force  did  he  let  go,  and  then  it  was  only  to 
launch  one  counter-attack  after  another. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Sergeant  Andrew 
B.  Lynch,  of  Philadelphia,  won  his  Dis- 
tinguished Service  Cross  by  a  remarkable 
piece  of  daring  and  self-sacrifice.  A  mem- 
ber of  the  headquarters  company  of  the 
110th  Infantry,  he  was  on  duty  with  the 
one-pounder  section  of  his  company  in  a 
position  slightly  north  of  the  village.  Under 
orders  he  removed  his  guns  to  the  rear  and, 
after  establishing  the  new  position,  was 
told  that  his  commanding  ojBScer,  Lieu- 
tenant Meyer  S.  Jacobs,  had  been  taken 
prisoner. 

Sergeant  Lynch  and  Corporal  Robert  F. 
Jeffeiy,  of  Sagamore,  Pa.,  organized  a 
rescue  party  of  five  and  instantly  moved 
forward  and  attacked  a  German  patrol  of 
thirty-six  men  who  had  Lieutenant  Jacobs 
in  custody.  Fifteen  of  the  Germans  were 
killed  and  Sergeant  Lynch  personally  took 
three  prisoners  and  released  his  Lieutenant, 
unwounded. 

Immediately  after  the  return  to  the 
American  lines,  Sergeant  Lynch  took  com- 
mand of  seventy -five  of  his  company  who 


^0         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

had  been  held  in  reserve.  Drawmg  his 
revolver,  the  sergeant  commanded  the 
men  to  follow  him,  launched  a  fresh  attack, 
drove  the  enemy  back  two-thirds  of  a  mile 
and  established  a  new  line  in  a  ravine 
northwest  of  the  village.  The  official 
citation  when  he  was  awarded  his  cross 
remarked  that  "Sergeant  Lynch's  conduct 
exemplified  the  greatest  courage,  judgment 
and  leadership." 

Lieutenant  John  V.  Merrick,  of  Rox- 
borough,  Philadelphia,  with  D  Company 
of  the  110th  Infantry,  had  gained  an  objec- 
tive to  which  he  had  been  assigned  and  was 
holding  the  western  end  of  a  ravine  near 
Apremont.  He  found  his  men  were  sub- 
jected to  both  a  frontal  and  an  enfilading 
fire  and  were  without  proper  shelter.  He 
ordered  a  withdrawal  to  a  safer  position 
and  while  doing  so  he  was  struck  through 
the  elbow  and  hand  by  machine  gun 
bullets. 

Suffering  intense  pain,  he  declined  to  be 
evacuated  and  for  two  hours  bravely  and 
skilfully  directed  his  men  and  brought 
them  back  to  the  company,  together  with 
stragglers  from  other  units,  who  attached 
themselves  to  his  party. 


ENSANGUINED  APREMONT     281 

Captain  Charles  L.  McLain,  of  Indiana, 
Pa.,  who  had  distinguished  himself  below 
the  Marne.  again  came  into  prominence  at 
Apremont.  He  learned  that  Company  C, 
110th,  was  without  officers.  His  own  com- 
pany was  in  reserve.  There  was  no  supe- 
rior officer  at  hand,  so  without  orders  he 
turned  over  command  of  his  own  company 
to  a  junior  officer,  took  command  of  the 
orphaned  C  Company  and  led  the  first 
wave  in  a  hot  attack.  He  was  wounded  in 
the  leg,  but  continued  at  the  head  of  his  men, 
hobbling  along  with  the  aid  of  a  cane,  until 
his  objective  was  reached.  Then  he  allowed 
them  to  send  him  to  a  hospital.  Both  he 
and  Lieutenant  Merrick  recovered  from 
their  wounds  and  rejoined  their  regiment. 

In  the  fighting  close  to  the  village  of 
Apremont,  the  men  used  shell  craters 
instead  of  digging  trenches,  organizing  them 
as  strong  points.  An  attack  on  the 
German  positions  was  planned  for  5.30 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  About  three 
hundred  Pennsylvania  infantrymen  in  the 
town  were  awaiting  a  barrage  which  should 
clear  the  way  for  them  to  advance. 

Oddly  enough,  the  Germans  had  planned 
an  attack  for  almost  the  same  time.     The 


282         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

Pennsylvanians  were  heavily  supported  by 
machine  guns.  The  Germans  launched 
their  attack  first  and  the  result  was  better 
for  the  Pennsylvanians  than  they  had 
expected  to  achieve  in  their  own  attack 
and  was  won  with  less  cost.  The  Germans 
came  straight  at  the  shell  craters  and  were 
mowed  down  in  rows.  Those  that  managed 
to  get  by  ran  into  the  waiting  infantry  in 
the  town  and  those  who  survived  that 
fight  turned  and  fled,  right  past  the  machine 
guns  in  the  shell  holes  again.  It  was  piti- 
able, officers  said  later,  or  would  have 
been  if  the  Americans  had  not  realized  that 
the  Germans  had  so  much  to  answer  for. 
Hardly  a  handful  of  the  several  hundred 
Germans  who  began  that  charge  lived 
through  it. 

At  last  the  Germans  launched  one  great 
attack,  in  which  they  apparently  had  every 
intention  of  driving  the  Americans  from 
the  village  and  the  surrounding  positions 
and  every  hope  of  being  successful.  They 
came  on  confidently  and  with  undeniable 
courage.  The  fighting  that  resulted  was 
desperate.  Our  Pennsylvania  men  stood 
up  to  them  like  the  gallant  veterans  they 
had  now  become. 


ENSANGUINED  APREMONT     283 

The  fighting  was  hand-to-hand,  breast-to- 
breast.  In  many  spots,  man  contended 
against  man  in  a  struggle  as  primitive,  as 
dogged  and  as  uncompromising  as  any 
fighting  ever  has  been.  When  a  contest 
narrowed  down  to  one  or  two  men  on  a 
side  this  way,  there  was  but  one  outcome 
for  the  loser.  There  was  neither  time  nor 
inclination  on  either  side  to  surrender,  nor 
time  to  take  prisoners.  Death,  quick  and 
merciful,  for  one  or  the  other  was  the  only 
possible  eventuality. 

Our  men  fought  like  tigers,  but  the  Ger- 
mans outnumbered  them  somewhat  and, 
after  their  first  rush,  had  a  certain  advan- 
tage of  position.  The  109th  Infantry  bore 
the  brunt  of  this  attack.  Major  Mackey, 
who  as  Captain  Mackey  had  won  place  in 
the  fighting  annals  of  the  division  in  the 
battle  below  the  Marne,  was  in  his  post 
command  in  an  advanced  position  when 
the  attack  was  launched.  The  "P.  C", 
as  the  army  shortens  post  command,  was 
in  a  cellar  from  which  the  house  above 
had  been  almost  blown  away  by  artillery 
fire.  With  him  were  his  battalion  adju- 
tant and  a  chaplain.  He  was  keeping 
in  touch  with  the  rear  and  with  the  regi- 


284         THE   IRON  DIVISION 

mental  post  command  by  means  of  tele- 
phone and  runners. 

The  runners  ceased  arriving  and  the 
telephone  connection  was  severed.  Only- 
then  did  the  men  in  the  cellar  realize  the 
attack  was  gaining  ground  and  that  they 
might  be  in  danger.  Suddenly  from  directly 
over  their  heads  came  the  angry  "rat-a- 
tat-tat-tat-tat "  of  a  machine  gun,  like  a 
pneumatic  riveter  at  work  on  the  steel 
skeleton  of  a  skyscraper  back  in  God's 
country.  Simultaneously,  the  bawling  of 
hoarse-voiced  commands  in  German  told 
them  that  the  visitors  who  had  taken 
possession  of  the  ground  floor  of  their  sub- 
terranean domicile  were  the  pestiferous 
Boche. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  Major 
Mackey  and  his  companions  kept  quiet, 
expecting  every  moment  to  be  called  on  to 
surrender.  But  Fritz  had  his  hands  full. 
Reinforcements  were  seeping  up  to  the 
front  line  of  the  Americans  and  they  were 
beginning  to  make  a  stand.  Then  the 
officers  and  men  of  Major  Mackey 's  bat- 
talion saw  what  the  Major  had  heard — 
the  Hun  machine  gunners  standing  on  the 
American  "P.  C." 


ENSANGUINED  APREMONT     285 

It  called  for  no  special  command.  There 
was  a  wild  yell  of  anger  and  defiance,  and 
away  the  Pennsylvanians  went  to  the 
rescue.  The  reinforcements  were  right  at 
their  heels.  The  Germans  had  shot  their 
bolt  and  would  have  been  compelled  to 
retreat  very  soon  anyway,  but  the  plight 
of  Major  Mackey  and  the  other  oflficers 
hastened  it.  In  a  very  short  time  the 
enemy  was  in  flight  northward  once  more. 

It  was  after  this  fight  that  Company  H  of 
the  109  th  buried  twenty -four  of  its  men,  said 
to  have  been  the  largest  loss  in  killed  of  any 
company  in  the  division  in  one  engagement 
during  the  war.  The  losses  all  through 
were  exceedingly  heavy.  There  were  in- 
stances of  companies  emerging  from  the 
combat  in  command  of  corporals,  every 
commissioned  officer  and  every  sergeant 
having  been  put  out  of  action,  and  in  at 
least  one  instance,  a  battalion  was  com- 
manded by  a  sergeant,  the  major,  his  staff, 
the  commanders  and  lieutenants  of  aU 
four  companies  having  been  incapacitated. 
It  was  terribly  costly,  but  it  wrote  the 
name  of  Apremont  on  the  records  of  the 
division  as  a  word  to  thrill  future  members 
of  tlie  organization. 


286         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

From  Apremont  the  advance  veered  over 
to  the  west,  still  following  the  course  of  the 
river,  toward  Chatel-Chehery.  When  the 
artillery  reached  Apremont  it  ran  into 
trouble  again.  One  battery  of  the  109th 
was  shelled  and  knocked  to  pieces.  Guns 
were  torn  from  their  carriages,  limbers  and 
caissons  blown  to  bits,  horses  killed  and  a 
number  of  men  killed  and  many  injured. 

Colonel  Asher  Miner,  of  Wilkes-Barre, 
went  out  in  person  and  assisted  in  rallying 
the  gunners,  bringing  order  out  of  chaos  and 
directing  the  men  to  a  new  position. 
Speaking  of  Colonel  Miner's  presence  of 
mind,  his  constant  presence  at  the  scene  of 
danger,  the  care  with  which  he  looked  after 
his  men  and  equipment  and  his  general 
efficiency  and  ability,  Brigadier-General 
Price  paid  him  a  high  compliment. 

"Colonel  Miner  showed  bravery  upon 
many  occasions,"  he  said,  "but  it  is  when 
men  do  what  they  do  not  have  to  do  that 
they  are  lifted  to  the  special  class  of  heroes. 
Miner  is  one  of  these." 

It  was  but  shortly  after  this  that  Colonel 
Miner  was  so  badly  injured  in  the  ankle 
that  his  foot  had  to  be  amputated. 

Just    after    leaving    Apremont,    fighting 


ENSANGUINED  APREMONT     287 

rod  by  rod,  almost  foot  by  foot,  the  infantry 
advance  had  a  brisk  engagement  in  the 
clearing  out  of  Pleinchamp  Farm.  As  was 
the  case  with  the  other  farms  of  France 
which  figured  so  frequently  in  the  war  news, 
this  consisted  of  a  considerable  group  of 
centuries-old  buildings,  built  of  stone  with 
exceedingly  thick  walls,  offering  ideal  pro- 
tection for  machine  guns,  snipers  and  one- 
pounders. 

The  buildings  were  so  situated  that  a 
force  attacking  one  was  open  to  hot  fire 
from  most  of  the  others.  It  was  cleared 
of  the  Germans  in  a  brilliant  little  engage- 
ment, however,  and  our  men  began  to 
close  in  on  Chatel-Chehery.  They  were 
now  in  the  act  of  driving  their  way  through 
the  Kriemhilde  line,  the  second  German 
defense  line  in  that  sector,  which  the  Ger- 
mans had  predicted  never  would  be  broken. 

The  112th  Infantry  again  came  to  the 
fore  in  this  work.  Hills  223  and  244, 
named  from  their  height  in  meters — ^names 
which  are  purely  for  military  purposes  and 
appear  only  on  the  military  maps — ^pre- 
sented formidable  obstacles  in  the  path  of 
the  regiment.  It  is  not,  however,  the 
American  way  to  stand  about  and  talk  of 


288         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

how  strong  the  enemy  probably  is,  so  the 
112th  took  another  hitch  in  its  belt,  clenched 
its  teeth  and  set  out  in  a  rush  for  Hill  244. 
Rather  to  their  surprise,  they  swept  over 
the  eminence  in  their  first  rush.  Neither 
machine  gun  nor  rifle  fire  halted  them.  It 
was  not  the  112th's  day  to  be  annoyed  and 
it  continued  to  wipe  out  the  German  defense 
positions  on  Hill  223  in  the  same  way. 

The  night  before  this  attack.  Sergeant 
Ralph  N.  Summerton,  of  Warren,  sat  in  a 
kitchen  of  the  regiment,  feeling  about  as 
miserable  as  one  man  may.  He  was  suffer- 
ing with  Spanish  influenza,  and  had  upon 
his  body  and  legs  a  number  of  aggravating 
wounds,  inflicted  when  a  German  "potato 
masher,"  or  trench  bomb,  went  off  close  to 
him.  He  had  refused  to  go  to  a  hospital 
because  he  felt  he  was  needed  with  the 
regiment,  but  he  had  upon  his  blouse  two 
medical  tags,  indicating  he  had  been  treated 
for  both  the  disease  and  the  wounds. 

Lieutenant  Dickson,  the  battalion  adju- 
tant, and  Lieutenant  Benjamin  F.  White, 
Jr.,  a  surgeon,  entered  and  Summerton 
asked  Lieutenant  Dickson  how  things  were 
with  the  regiment.  The  ofiicer  remarked 
that  there  were  no  ofl[icers  to  lead  I  Com- 


ENSANGUINED  APREMONT     289 

pany  in  the  attack  next  morning  and 
Summerton  started  out. 

"You'd  better  either  stay  here  or  go  to 
a  hospital;  you're  a  sick  man,"  said  the 
medical  officer,  but  Summerton  disregarded 
the  advice,  went  to  the  company  and 
assumed  command  and  led  the  first  wave 
in  the  assault  on  Hill  244  next  morning. 
He  actually  was  the  first  to  the  top  of  the 
hill,  and  performed  the  feat  under  the 
eyes  of  the  brigade  commander,  although 
he  was  almost  reeling  from  his  illness  and 
his  wounds.  Not  only  that,  but  after 
gaining  the  crest  he  continued  to  lead  the 
attack  until  he  got  a  rifle  bullet  through 
the  shoulder,  which  put  him  out  of  the 
action. 

The  regiment  came  next  against  Chene 
Tondu  Ridge,  and  here  the  whole  division 
came  to  a  pause.  It  took  just  four  days  to 
reduce  that  stronghold.  It  was  a  case 
where  nothing  could  be  gained  and  much 
lost  by  trying  brute  force  and  speed,  so  it 
was  cleared  of  Germans  by  a  regular  course 
of  siege  operations  in  the  tactics  with 
which  the  Pennsylvanians  now  were  so 
familiar. 

Some   men   spotted   the   German   firing 

19 


290         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

positions  and  concentrated  their  streams 
of  bullets  on  tliem,  while  others  crept 
forward  to  protected  posts.  These  in  turn 
set  up  a  peppery  fusillade  and  the  others 
crept  forward.  So  it  went  on,  steadily  up 
hill,  steadily  gaining,  until,  on  the  evening 
of  the  fourth  day,  the  tired  doughboys  of 
the  112th  lay  down  and  slept  on  the  crest 
of  the  ridge  in  token  of  their  victory.  They 
had  redeemed  it  for  France. 

These  were  the  chief  defenses  which  had 
to  be  overcome  before  the  troops  came  to 
Chatel-Chehery  itself.  There  much  the 
same  kind  of  fighting  as  at  Apremont  took 
place,  although  not  on  so  fierce  and  exten- 
sive a  scale. 


CHAPTER  XX 

Toward  Hunland 

NEAR  Chatel-Chehery,  in  the  depth 
of  the  woods,  the  soldiers  found  a 
hunting  lodge  which  prisoners  said 
had  been  occupied  for  a  long  time  by  the 
German  Crown  Prince.  They  said  that, 
unmindful  of  the  great  tragedy  such  a  short 
distance  away  and  for  which  he  was  at 
least  partly  responsible,  he  entertained 
parties  of  gay  friends  at  the  lodge  and  went 
boar  hunting  in  the  forest.  That  he  was 
more  or  less  successful  was  attested  by 
several  large  boars'  heads  on  the  walls. 

In  the  course  of  their  progress  up  the 
valley,  our  men  had  captured  a  railroad 
which  had  been  part  of  the  German  system 
of  communications.  With  it  were  taken 
seven  locomotives  and  268  cars.  The  loco- 
motives were  of  odd  construction,  to  Amer- 
ican eyes,  having  a  big  flywheel  over  the 
boiler,  and  on  each  a  fanciful  name  was 
painted  in  German  on  the  side  of  the  cab. 
Locomotives  and  cars  were  camouflaged  to 

(291) 


292         THE  IRON   DIVISION 

make  them  blend  with  the  trees,  bushes  and 
ferns  of  the  forest.  An  eflPort  had  been 
made  to  wreck  them,  but  four  were  easily 
repaired  and  in  a  few  hours  after  they  were 
seized  men  of  the  103d  Engineers  had  the 
railroad  running  full  blast  and  performing 
valuable  service. 

Our  men  also  had  taken  a  complete  15- 
cottage  hospital.  It  was  located  attract- 
ively upon  the  side  of  a  hill  and  winding 
paths  connected  the  buildings,  which  were 
of  red  brick  and  painted  concrete.  In  the 
modern  operating  room  a  gruesome  sight 
was  presented.  Evidently  the  hospital 
force  had  fled  in  haste  as  the  Americans 
approached,  for  upon  the  operating  table 
lay  a  dead  German  with  one  leg  amputated. 
The  detached  member  and  the  surgical 
implements  lay  right  at  hand,  indicating 
that  the  surgeons  had  deserted  the  man 
upon  the  table  while  operating,  without  a 
thought  for  his  welfare. 

Another  valuable  capture  was  an  elec- 
trically-operated sawmill,  with  1,000,000 
feet  of  prepared  lumber.  All  of  these, 
together  with  a  number  of  electric  power 
plants,  were  immediately  set  to  work  for 
the  benefit  of  the  division,  the  mill  and 


TOWARD  HUNLAND  £93 

power  plants  under  mechanics  from  the 
engineer  regiment,  the  hospital  under  men 
from  the  sanitary  train. 

Moving  on  from  Chatel-Chehery,  the 
division  took  Fleville  and  then  came  to  the 
outskirts  of  Grand  Pre,  which  promised  to 
make  itself  worth  the  taking  of  any 
division  and  which  did,  indeed,  prove 
quite  a  stumbling  block. 

Not  for  the  Iron  Division,  however,  for 
its  service  of  fourteen  days  in  that  mag- 
nificent drive  was  regarded  as  enough  for 
one  body  of  men  and  it  was  ordered  with- 
drawn. The  organizations  were  relieved  on 
October  9th  and  10th  and  moved  southward, 
crossed  the  Aire  and  came  to  rest  in  posi- 
tions around  Thiaucourt,  sixteen  miles  south- 
west of  Metz  and  about  four  miles  back  of 
the  front  lines.  Division  headquarters  was 
established  at  Euvezin,  several  miles  south- 
west of  Thiaucourt. 

The  artillery  was  detached  and  sent 
scurrying  away  along  the  rear  of  the 
roaring  battle  line,  where  the  Germans  now 
were  rapidly  nearing  the  crash  to  cause 
which  our  men  had  done  so  much.  Straight 
away  northwest  they  traveled,  mile  after 
mile,  and  when  they  finally  came  to  a  halt 


294         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

the  gunners,  to  their  utter  amazement, 
found  themselves  in  that  devils'  cauldron 
of  the  whole  war,  Belgium. 

Here  they  were  attached  to  the  Army  of 
Pursuit,  which  was  intended  to  hound  the 
retiring  Germans  to  the  last  ditch,  but  the 
signing  of  the  armistice  intervened  before 
they  saw  real  action.  The  artillerymen  had 
thought  they  knew  something  about  devas- 
tation and  desolation  from  what  they  had 
seen  hitherto,  but  the  sights  in  Belgium 
taught  them  that  they  knew  little  of  such 
things.  That  ghastly,  bleak,  barren  land, 
clawed  to  pieces  like  a  carcass  under  the 
beaks  of  carrion  birds  by  four  long  years  of 
war,  left  the  Pennsylvania  gunners  speech- 
less with  horror. 

Back  with  the  division,  the  men  had 
but  a  day  or  two  to  rest  in  the  billets  about 
Thiaucourt.  Then,  just  after  the  middle  of 
October,  the  56th  Brigade  moved  up  toward 
the  front  and  took  position  on  a  line, 
Xammes,  Jaulny,  Haumont.  They  had 
now  become  a  part  of  the  Second  American 
Army,  which  obviously  was  getting  into 
position  for  a  drive  on  Metz,  and  our  men 
looked  forward  to  more  strenuous  work. 

The  55th  Brigade  was  to  have  relieved 


TOWARD  HUNLAND  295 

the  56th  in  ten  days,  but  this  order  was 
countermanded.  The  55th  instead  moved 
up  and  took  position  on  the  left  of  the 
56th,  and  it  was  approximately  in  these 
positions  that  the  signing  of  the  armistice 
found  our  men.  In  the  meantime  they  had 
some  smart  action  and  a  number  of  casual- 
ties, but  the  work  was  nothing  which  drew 
attention  during  the  closing  days  of  the 
world's  greatest  war.  When  hostilities 
ceased  they  were  moved  back  somewhat  and 
went  into  a  real  rest  camp  based  on  Heudi- 
court.  On  November  18th  they  achieved 
the  right  to  wear  a  gold  chevron  on  the 
left  cuff  in  token  of  their  having  been  six 
months  in  overseas  service. 

Four  days  before  this,  however,  on 
November  14th,  the  division  was  named  as 
one  of  several  to  push  forv/ard  toward  the 
German  frontier,  to  act  in  support  of  the 
Third  Army,  the  American  Army  of  Occu- 
pation. Disappointment  at  not  having 
been  made  a  part  of  the  Army  of  Occupa- 
tion promptly  gave  way  to  rejoicing  at  this 
new  honor  and  fresh  evidence  of  ttie  confi- 
dence reposed  in  the  Pennsylvanians  by  the 
High  Command. 

Some   days    before    the   signing   of    the 


296         THE  IRON  DIVISION 

armistice,  General  Muir  had  taken  leave 
of  the  division  with  every  sign  of  deep  regret. 
He  was  going  to  take  command  of  the 
Fourth  Army  Corps  and  Major-General 
William  H.  Hay  succeeded  him  in  com- 
mand of  the  Twenty -eighth. 

General  Muir  once  more  took  occasion  to 
voice  his  admiration  for  the  division  as  a 
whole  and  directed  that  special  orders, 
commending  each  unit  and  mentioning 
some  of  the  special  feats  it  had  performed, 
be  issued  to  the  commanding  oflScers  of 
the  units.  These  were  in  turn  reproduced 
by  the  commanding  officers  and  a  copy 
given  to  each  man. 

In  concluding  this  record,  probably  noth- 
ing could  be  more  appropriate  than  to 
quote  the  order  of  its  fighting  commander, 
citing  its  glorious  action.  The  communica- 
tion read: 

"The  Division  Commander  desires  to 
express  his  appreciation  to  all  the  offi- 
cers and  soldiers  of  the  Twenty-eighth 
Division  and  of  its  attached  units  who, 
at  all  times  during  the  advance  in  the 
valley  of  the  Aire  and  in  the  Argonne 
forest,  in  spite  of  their  many  hardships 
and   constant  personal  danger,  gave  their 


TOWARD  HUNLAND         297 

best  efforts  to  further  the  success  of  the 
division. 

"As  a  result  of  this  operation,  which 
extended  from  5.30  o'clock  on  the  morning 
of  September  26th  until  the  night  of  Octo- 
ber 8th,  with  almost  continuous  fighting, 
the  enemy  line  was  forced  back  more  than 
ten  kilometers. 

"In  spite  of  the  most  stubborn  and  at 
times  desperate  resistance,  the  enemy  was 
driven  out  of  Grand  Boureuilles,  Petite 
Boureuilles,  Varennes,  Montblainville, 
Apremont,  Pleinchamp  Farm,  Le  Forge  and 
Chatel-Chehery,  and  the  strongholds  on 
Hills  223  and  244  and  La  Chene  Tondu 
were  captured  in  the  face  of  strong  machine 
gun  and  artillery  fire. 

"As  a  new  division  on  the  Vesle  River, 
north  of  Chateau-Thierry,  the  Twenty- 
eighth  was  cited  in  orders  from  General 
Headquarters  for  its  excellent  service,  and 
the  splendid  work  it  has  just  completed 
assures  it  a  place  in  the  very  front  ranks  of 
fighting  American  divisions. 

"With  such  a  position  to  maintain,  it  is 
expected  that  every  man  will  devote  his 
best  efforts  to  the  work  at  hand  to  hasten 
that  final  victory  which  is  now  so  near." 


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